Adrian 
 
 ViDAL 
 
 ys^j^, 
 
 sm^ 
 
 W. E. NORRIS 
 
 ^$^^sft^l 
 
 
 m*rmf^'^''^' r-^^ ^T-r-.r ^ - ...^^-^
 
 .^ t - VNtVt^ 
 
 'L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 UNIVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 M4-7aa 
 
 THOMAS lErmy lAERM. 
 ABINCER HALL. 
 
 Ui ^%
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/adrianvidal01norr
 
 
 ^
 
 ADEIAN VIDAL 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 ADEIAN VIDAL 
 
 BY 
 
 W. E. NOEEIS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 >'0 XEW THIXG' ' MADEMOISELLE DE MERSAC ' 'MATRIMONY' 
 
 ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 
 
 1885 
 
 [All rights reserved}
 
 923 
 
 V. 1 
 
 CD 
 
 CO 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OP 
 
 LO THE FIKST VOLUME. 
 
 I CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 CJ 
 
 Q I. A CHANCE ENCOUNTER .... 1 
 
 II. heeiot's friends 20 
 
 ■^ III. AFTER DINNER 37- 
 
 IV. MISS IRVINE 45 
 
 4 
 
 V. IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 \ VI. * SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS . . . . 84 
 
 s 
 
 ^ VII. A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT . . .106 
 
 VIII. CARDREW 135 
 
 IX. THE REWARD OF SELF-DENIAL . . .165
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME 
 
 CHAPTBR lAGE 
 
 X. A SUMMER AFTERNOON 180 
 
 XI. DREAMS 108 
 
 XII. HERIOT'S wedding present . . . 218 
 
 XIII. LADY ST. AUSTELL 227 
 
 XIV. ANGLING 258 
 
 XV. MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL . . . 289
 
 ADEIAN VIDAL. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER. 
 
 A YOUNG man was sitting before a writing-table 
 in his bedroom at tbat overgrown caravanserai, 
 the Schweizerhof, at Lucerne. By his elbow 
 lay a burnt-out pipe ; a few books of reference 
 and various scribbled notes surrounded the 
 blotting-book over which he was bending ; 
 while beneath his hand a blank half-sheet of 
 foolscap was waiting — and had, indeed, been 
 waiting some little time — to receive the first 
 strokes of the hovering pen. But the pen 
 continued to hover dubiously ; the hand that 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 9k
 
 2 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 held the pen shook ; the brain which should 
 have been conveying directions to the hand 
 was worried and unmanageable, as well it 
 might be. For of all positions in which an 
 author can choose to place his writmg- table, 
 that beside an open window overlooking a 
 glaring lake is probably the least advantageous ; 
 and, of all buildings, an hotel is about the most 
 unsuitable for the work of composition. Again, 
 of all hotels the Schweizerhof is one of the 
 busiest ; finally, of all towns in Christendom 
 Lucerne is quite the most distractingiy noisy. 
 Church bells jangle and boom there perpetu- 
 ally ; steamers shriek, carts rattle over the 
 stones ; porters, for ever loading and unloading 
 omnibuses, yell at one another ; and the pro- 
 prietors of the hotel — fearing, no doubt, that 
 these cheerful sounds may not suffice to keep 
 up the spirits of their guests — have not shrunk 
 from adding to them a full private band, which 
 scrapes and tootles indefatigably beneath the.
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 3 
 
 windows. From early morning to midnight, 
 or near it, the hubbub rages, until one ceases 
 to wonder that the poor clerk, feverishly totting 
 up accounts in the bureau^ should look so like 
 an escaped lunatic. 
 
 The author on the second floor was already 
 beginning to display points of resemblance to 
 that overworked official. His face was hag- 
 gard, his sighs were piteous to hear, and his 
 fair hair would have been dishevelled if it had 
 been long enough. As it was, he had only 
 succeeded in rubbing all trace of a parting out 
 of it, and causing it to stand up in abrupt tufts 
 here and there, so that anyone who had not 
 known what he was about might have supposed 
 him to have just tumbled out of bed. For 
 the rest, he was a good-lookmg young fellow 
 enough, his forehead being broad and square, 
 his nose straight, and the grey eyes beneath his 
 somewhat arched brows large and expressive. 
 A shght moustache hardly concealed his mouth, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 which a physiognomist would at once have pro- 
 nounced to be the mouth of an artist or aii 
 imaginative writer. A practised physiognomist 
 might, even at this early period of Adrian 
 Vidal's career, have seen reason to place him 
 in the latter category, for he bore certain out- 
 ward signs of the nervous hterary temperament, 
 and already upon his forehead were faintly 
 traced those horizontal lines which the plough 
 of Time so soon deepens into furrows. The 
 lines were rather more perceptible than usual 
 just now, owing to the causes above alluded to. 
 
 ' AMiy, one might as well be in London 
 you know,' he exclaimed aloud, addressing 
 himself in a tone of gentle remonstrance to 
 space. ' In all my born days I never heard 
 such an infernal din. And this in the month 
 of May, too ! What can it be like in summer, 
 when the tourists are loose ? ' 
 
 Adrian Vidal had never been at Lucerne 
 before, or he certainly would not have fallen
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 5 
 
 into the error of supposing that it is a quiet 
 retreat at any time, unless it be in the dead of 
 the winter — and even then, most hkely, the 
 church bells do not cease from troubling. In 
 the month of May travellers alight there from 
 all quarters. Some, like our misguided author, 
 come from the north ; not a few invade it from 
 over the German frontier; but it is the south, 
 whence the great army of invalids is then 
 wending its way homewards, that supplies the 
 httle town with the bulk of its fugitive guests. 
 From Egypt, fr'om Algeria, from Italy, from 
 the Eiviera they pour over the mountains, or 
 burrow under them, and alighting, with queru- 
 lous buzzings and murmurings, for a night, pass 
 on, to be succeeded on the following day by a 
 crowd as large and as uproarious. Just now — 
 for the afternoon was on the wane, and two 
 trains and a steamer had come in — a strong 
 contingent of them had arrived at the Schwei- 
 zerhof. Yidal could hear them stamping up
 
 6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 and down the corridors, calling to their ser- 
 vants, scolding the waiters, ringing their bells, 
 and slamming their doors. 
 
 Presently there came a knock at his own 
 door, one of those irresolute, deprecating taps 
 which are so much more irritating to the nerves 
 than a loud bang. 
 
 ' Oh, come in ! ' said the young man re- 
 signedly. 
 
 However, nobody took advantage of the 
 permission, so he sighed and began to cudgel 
 his brains once more. After about a minute 
 the timid signal was repeated. 
 
 ' Entrez ! Herein ! Favorisca ! Come in ! ' 
 shouted Vidal savagely. ' Stay out then,' he 
 concluded in a more philosophical tone, and 
 returned to his work. 
 
 Then the door was slowly and creakingly 
 opened about a foot, and through the aperture 
 appeared the head and shoulders of a mild- 
 looking old gentleman with long grey hair and
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 7 
 
 spectacles. ' Oh,' said the intruder in accents 
 of disappointment, ' then this is not my room 
 after all. I was afraid it couldn't be.' 
 
 ' It isn't,' answered Yidal, more curtly than 
 courteously. His manners and his temper were 
 both fairly good in a general way ; but it was 
 rather too provoking that anyone should have 
 entertained a doubt as to the ownership of the 
 apartment after having been bawled at in four 
 languages. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, I'm sure,' said the old 
 gentleman, retreating at once. Nevertheless, 
 he did not quite shut the door, and as Vidal, 
 with an imprecation, was starting up to rectify 
 this omission, the grey head of his tormentor 
 was thrust in again. ' I suppose,' began the 
 latter, hesitatingly, ' you couldn't oblige me by 
 telling me the number of my room, could 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' Well, really,' returned Vidal, half laughing, 
 half annoyed, ' I'm afraid not. How could I,
 
 8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 you know ? — considering that I never set eyes 
 on you before.' 
 
 'No, no — to be sure,' agreed the other. 
 ' It's very awkward,' he continued, rubbing his 
 chin in perplexity. ' You see, I can't even 
 remember which storey it was on. And yet I 
 did make a point of noticing it, too, before I 
 went out.' 
 
 ' Hadn't you better apply to the hall porter? ' 
 said the young man. 
 
 ' Dear me, yes — of course ! so I will. A 
 very good idea ! I am much obliged to you, 
 sir, for suggesting it,' cried the other, brighten- 
 ing up amazingly. And without more ado he 
 trotted off to put it into execution. 
 
 ' What an original old person ! ' muttered 
 Yidal, as he seated himself at his table again. 
 Then he laughed a little, and so fell into a 
 good humour, which was always an easy pro- 
 cess with him. ' Writing be hanged ! ' said he, 
 shutting up his blotting-book and beginning to
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 9 
 
 whistle. ' There's no greater mistake than 
 writing when one is not in tune for it. It's a 
 waste of time and a waste of vital power ; and, 
 besides that, it's apt to get one into the fatal 
 habit of being satisfied with something less 
 than one's best.' 
 
 This last reflection will sufficiently show 
 that Mr. Yidal had as yet but small experience 
 of his craft. A man who can't complacently 
 put up with work which falls below the utmost 
 limit of his powers must either be a genius or 
 a tyro, and it is certain that Yidal was not a 
 genius. His was the happier lot of possessing 
 talents slightly above the average, keen faculties 
 of observation, and a mind quick to receive im- 
 pressions. It has already been said that he 
 was physically favoured above his fellows ; so 
 that it should seem as if nothing had been 
 lacking to make this young author a thoroughly 
 contented man, unless it were money — of 
 which, indeed, he had not quite so much as he
 
 lo ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 could have desired. Yet even this deficiency 
 could hardly be counted a drawback to 
 happiness, since he had enough for present 
 needs, and looked forward to making his for- 
 tune in the pleasantest of all possible ways — 
 namely, by his own exertions. When it is 
 added that the proposed exertions were to be 
 employed in the composition of novels it will 
 be more than ever apparent how young Mr. 
 Vidal was. 
 
 He pushed aside his writing-table, and, 
 resting his elbows upon the window-sill, looked 
 out upon the blue lake, with its wooded pro- 
 montories, and the snowy mountains of Uri 
 rising cloud-capped in the distance. ' It's all 
 very lovely,' he murmured ; ' only one can't 
 enjoy it, unfortunately. Good Heavens ! what 
 a paradise one might make of this place if one 
 could but sweep away the hotels and the 
 steamers and the tourists at a blow ! " Every
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER ii 
 
 prospect pleases, and only man is vile," as the 
 hjmin says.' 
 
 He lowered Ms gaze to the strip of garden 
 directly beneath him, and the shady promenade 
 on the quay, where assorted specimens of 
 humanity were congregated in large numbers, 
 happily unconscious of their vileness. The 
 band, with preliminary squeaks and grunts, 
 was tuning up for a fresh outburst ; about the 
 low wall which bordered the lake hung a crew 
 of those loungers — touts, guides, boatmen, and 
 others — who batten upon the modern wanderer ; 
 the modern wanderer himself was exhaustively 
 represented in every variety of garb. 
 
 ' That's uncommonly like Heriot's back,' 
 mused Yidal, his eye falling upon a rather 
 shabbv shootinof-coat amons a host of others. 
 And then, with more animation — ' By Jove ! 
 it is Heriot's back. What an odd chance ! ' 
 
 He seized his hat, ran quickly downstairs, 
 and was presently in a position to deal a re
 
 12 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 sounding slap upon the back which he had 
 identified, and which was a somewhat round 
 one. 
 
 The owner of the back started and said 
 mildly, but with a little pardonable irritation, 
 ' Don't do that, whoever you are ; I don't like 
 
 it; 
 
 He was a man of something under middle 
 age, although his head and his short pointed 
 beard had nearly as many grey hairs as black. 
 His face was one of those which are only 
 qualified as ugly by reason of the poverty of 
 language, and which would have to be called 
 beautiful if it were permissible to define beauty 
 as that which is pleasant to look upon. Heriot's 
 face, in spite of its snub nose, high cheek-bones, 
 and greyish-brown complexion, was very 
 pleasant to look upon. Its habitual expression 
 was one of mingled humorousness and pathos, 
 which was attractive and also a little puzzhng, 
 until you looked more closely and saw that the
 
 A CHANCE ENCOLNTER 13 
 
 pathos arose out of evident signs of physical 
 suffering cheerfully borne. His soft brown 
 eyes had an unnatural brilliancy at times, which 
 would of itself have sufficed to exclude him 
 from any chance of doing business with a life 
 insurance office. They lightened up now 
 when he turned round and recognised his 
 assailant. 
 
 'Adrian, of all people!' he exclaimed. 
 ' My dear boy, w^hat on earth are you doing at 
 Lucerne ? ' 
 
 ' Cursing myself for having been such a fool 
 as to come here,' rephed the other, with a laugh. 
 I don't know what made me fancy it a 
 sequestered nook, in which one might work all 
 day without fear of interruption ; but that was 
 the extraordinary notion that I formed. Some- 
 thing in the sound of the name, I suppose. It 
 doesn't much matter, after all. I can run up 
 into the mountains in a day or two, and mean- 
 while I have the satisfaction of seeing you a
 
 14 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 good montli earlier than I expected. And, 
 by the way, what brings you here ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I am here for the excellent reason 
 that I can't travel from Marseilles to London 
 without a break — several breaks, in fact. I 
 am creeping slowly towards my native land 
 with the other cripples.' 
 
 ' And how are you, Heriot ? ' asked the 
 younger man, scrutinising liis friend with a 
 shade of anxiety. 'Not any worse, I should 
 say, by the look of you.' 
 
 * Well, no ; I am pretty much where I was. 
 I am not dead yet, as you see, and that is 
 about all that I can say for myself.' 
 
 'It seems to me that you are looking 
 better,' said Vidal ; for he shared the general 
 belief that such speeches are comforting, 
 whether sincere or not. 
 
 Heriot laughed ; he did not seem disposed 
 to dwell upon the subject. ' What about the
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 15 
 
 great work ? ' lie asked. ' Has it been given 
 to an expectant world yet ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet ; but it is upon the point of 
 appearing ; and, to tell you the truth, I have left 
 England as much to escape from the con- 
 dolences of my friends as for anything else. 
 I feel that it will be a ghastly failure.' 
 
 ' Why should you be so despondent ? ' 
 asked Heriot, smihng. 
 
 ' Because, when I read it over, I couldn't 
 help seeing what a deadly dull book it was. 
 It has good points — or at least I think so — but 
 then they are not the sort of good points that 
 will be at all likely to strike the general public ; 
 and I am afraid there isn't nearly enough of 
 plot. Ah, those confounded plots ! the pub- 
 lishers ought to provide them for us. Why 
 are we to be bothered and badgered into 
 imagining involved combinations of circum- 
 stances ? It isn't about that kind of thing that 
 we want to write, nor in that kind of thing that
 
 i6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 we hope to interest our readers. Where is the 
 plot in ''Tristram Shandy," I should like to 
 know ? For my part, if a novel pleases me, I 
 care no more about the plot than I do about 
 the binding ; do you ? ' 
 
 ' Well, if you ask me, I must confess that I 
 do,' answered Heriot, not caring to point out 
 to his friend that the possession of Sterne's 
 genius is a necessary condition to the employ- 
 ment of Sterne's methods. 
 
 ' I don't believe you do, all the same,' said 
 the young man ; ' but, of course, theoretically 
 a story ought to be a story, and it is awkward 
 to have no answer ready to such an obvious 
 criticism. I feel very much as I used to do at 
 school after I had sent in a copy of verses 
 about which I had misgivings, and I seem to 
 see the stern critic standing over me with 
 subhme rod. " Now, Yidal, where's your 
 plot?" — " Oh, please, sir, I haven't got one ; 
 but I thought if I made the writing very
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 17 
 
 pretty " xind then the birch twigs whistle 
 
 through the air, and I have to assume an 
 ignoble posture. Let us talk about something 
 else.' 
 
 ' It is nearly time to talk about dinner,' 
 remarked Heriot, looking at his watch. ' I 
 suppose you dine at the table d'hote ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I suppose so.' 
 
 ' Then you might as well tell them to put 
 us together. By the way, I must introduce 
 you to some very old friends of mine, the 
 Irvines, whom I fell in with yesterday. They 
 are on their way back from Eome. Perhaps,' 
 added Heriot, with a smile, ' you might find 
 them — two of them at least — good subjects to 
 introduce into a work of fiction, though I fancy 
 that poor old Irvine, if you depicted him truth- 
 fully, would be pronounced too broad a cari- 
 cature. He is a great collector of antiquities 
 of all kinds, especially coins ; and most hkely 
 he could tell you the name of every emperor, 
 VOL. I. c
 
 i8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 king, and consul whose image and superscrip- 
 tion have ever been struck ; but his powers of 
 memory end absokitely there. I beheve that 
 if you were to stop him suddenly in the street 
 and ask him what his name was, where he lived, 
 where he was at that moment, and whither he 
 was bound, he wouldn't be able, for the life of 
 him, to answer a single one of your questions.' 
 
 'I fancy I have seen the old gentleman 
 already,' said Vidal. ' Has he long grey hair 
 and spectacles, and does he look as if he had 
 forgotten, amongst other things, to shave for 
 three days ? ' 
 
 Heriot nodded. 
 
 ' Ah, then that is my friend. He marched 
 into my room about an hour ago, and seemed 
 quite hurt when I told him that it was my 
 room, and that I couldn't assist him towards 
 discovering his own. Does Mrs. Irvine share 
 his pecuharities ? ' 
 
 ' No ; but she has some of her own. How-
 
 A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 19 
 
 ever, you will soon be able to judge of her for 
 yourself. I don't want you to laugh at them 
 too much, though ; because, for all their little 
 oddities, they are dear good people, and they 
 have shown me a great deal of kindness at one 
 time and another. A man hke myself, without 
 kith or kin, learns to value his friends, you 
 know.' 
 
 ' I know that you stick to your friends, 
 Heriot,' said the other, laying his hand upon 
 his companion's shoulder as they re-entered the 
 hotel together. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 heriot's friends. 
 
 ViDAL spoke with some warmth, and had, in- 
 deed, good reason for so doing. The friendship 
 which had subsisted for some years between 
 the two men, and which, in the first instance, 
 had been rather of the elder's than of the 
 younger 's seeking, was now equally strong on 
 both sides. It was Heriot who had discovered 
 Vidal's literary capabilities, and had put him in 
 the way of contributing those short articles to 
 magazines, by means of which he had first 
 tried his wings ; it was to Heriot that he in- 
 variably turned in the moments of despondency 
 and self-distrust to which his temperament 
 made him liable ; and, finally, it was Heriot
 
 HE RIOTS FRIEXDS 21 
 
 who had once got him out of a scrape which, 
 absurd as it seemed when looked back upon 
 from the heights of mature experience, might 
 easily have had a lamentable conclusion. 
 
 That a boy of eighteen should fall in love 
 with his mother's maid is a circumstance not, 
 perhaps, highly creditable to the boy's taste or 
 intelligence, yet one which can hardly be called 
 unprecedented. If, in Adrian's case, the maid 
 had escaped without a slur upon her character, 
 this happy result was probably due less to 
 Susan's rigid virtue than to her vaulting am- 
 bition. For, being a young woman endowed 
 not only with beauty of person but with excep- 
 tional strength of purpose, she had made up 
 her mind to nothing less than that her mistress's 
 son should marry her, and had actually ex- 
 torted from him something like a promise to 
 that effect. And so, when he got the better of 
 his fancy and sought safety in flight, she left 
 ^Irs. Yidal's service at a moment's notice and
 
 22 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 followed her faithless swain to London, where 
 there is every reason to believe that she would 
 have achieved her end, had not Heriot been 
 informed of the state of affairs and hastened to 
 the rescue. By what means he contrived to 
 shake off the tenacious Susan, Vidal never knew 
 precisely. His own view was that he was 
 bound in honour, if not to ruin his whole life, 
 at least to provide as handsomely as his means 
 would allow for the girl whom he had deceived. 
 But Heriot, foreseeing the perils to which pay- 
 ment of black-mail must inevitably lead, had 
 refused to hear of any such thing ; and this, 
 perhaps, was not the least of the services which 
 he had rendered to his young friend. The 
 woman had gone away at last, uttering threats 
 of vengeance which had never been carried 
 into execution, and the episode had long ceased 
 to be referred to between the two men ; but 
 Vidal had not forgotten it, nor was he the less 
 grateful to his preserver because of the easy
 
 HERIOT'S FRIENDS 23 
 
 and matter-of-course way in which his preser- 
 vation had been effected. 
 
 Heriot, old for his years, disenchanted with 
 hfe so far as he himself was concerned, and 
 suffering from a disease which at times gave 
 him horrible pain, and might at any moment 
 kill him, had learnt, as many people do under 
 such circumstances, to find his share of the 
 excitement of existence in the joys and hopes 
 and ambitions of others. It was not unnatural 
 that he should have felt specially drawn towards 
 a young fellow who, like Adrian Yidal, pos- 
 sessed exactly the blessings which had been 
 denied to himself — strength, beauty, enthusiasm, 
 and just a touch of that harmless vanity which 
 a worn-out man so readily pardons, and almost 
 loves, in his juniors. Yidal, on his side, had 
 an affection for Heriot which was half filial, 
 half fraternal. He knew that his friend was 
 intellectually and morally his superior ; but he 
 knew also that in any perplexity or trouble he
 
 24 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 could turn to him with absolute confidence, not 
 only in his judgment but in his sympathy ; and 
 he well understood that a friend of that stamp 
 is not met with twice in a lifetime. Therefore, 
 as he had an instinctive abhorrence of pain, he 
 pretty generally contrived to put away from 
 him the thought that Heriot's days were num- 
 bered ; and it was only when, as now, a separa- 
 tion of some months made the slow change for 
 the worse perceptible, that he felt that sudden 
 tightening of the heart-strings with which most 
 of us have reason to be familiar. 
 
 While he was washing his hands and brush- 
 ing his hair before dinner, he did not whistle, 
 as was his wont, and his glass reflected a grave 
 countenance. ' Egypt hasn't done him a bit of 
 good, poor old chap ! ' he muttered. ' I sup- 
 pose nothing will ever do him good any more. 
 And yet, so long as he doesn't get worse . . . 
 How many years is it since those solemn asses 
 of doctors condemned him to death ? Two, or
 
 HERIOT'S FRIENDS 25 
 
 more, I think. After all, pluck is the best 
 doctor, and he has plenty of that.' 
 
 Fastening upon this ground for hope, in the 
 absence of a better one, Yidal soon gained the 
 comfort from it which he desired, and went 
 cheerfully downstairs to dinner. He was a 
 httle late. The great table-d'hote room was 
 already full to overflowing ; the assembled 
 company of all nations was devouring its food, 
 and growhng over it after the manner of all 
 carnivora when freed from social restrictions; 
 waiters in an unpleasant state of warmth were 
 hurrying to and fro, bearing pyramids of plates ; 
 and through the open windows were wafted 
 the strains of the untiring band. Presently 
 Vidal made out Heriot beckoning to him from 
 the far end of one of the long tables, at the 
 head of which sat the old gentleman of defec- 
 tive memory who had so irritated him an hour 
 before. 
 
 ' We have kept a place for you,' Heriot
 
 26 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 said. ' Let me introduce you to Mrs. Irvine — 
 and Mr. Irvine, who know you very well by 
 name.' 
 
 The old gentleman started out of a placid 
 dream, and bowed pleasantly to the new-comer, 
 without, apparently, the smallest recollection of 
 their previous meeting ; but Mrs. Irvine held 
 out her hand, and said, with frank heartiness, 
 'How do you do? So glad to meet you. We 
 have very often heard of you from Mr. Heriot.' 
 
 Mrs. Ir\dne's appearance suggested the idea 
 that she had just arrived from the railway 
 station, and that she had sat beside the window 
 during her journey. She wore a bonnet and a 
 long dust-cloak, which last was flung back from 
 her shoulders, and her grey hair looked as 
 though she had omitted to brush it after 
 having been out in a gale of wind. There was 
 no ostensible reason for her being in a hurry ; 
 yet she both spoke and ate as if there were no 
 time to be lost. ' And where have ijou come
 
 HE RIOT'S FRIENDS 27 
 
 from, Mr. Viclal? From London ? I thought 
 everybody was going to London, not coming 
 away from it, at this time of year. We have 
 been spending the winter in Eome, and have 
 enjoyed ourselves beyond everything — at least, . 
 my daughter and I have. I am not quite so 
 sure about Mr. Irvine, who dislikes travelling. 
 StiU he really was interested — I was saying 
 that you were interested in Eome, John.' 
 
 'Eh? Oh, immensely interested,' answered 
 Mr. Lrvine. ' I don't know whether you are 
 
 famihar with Eome, Mr. — er I beg your 
 
 pardon, but I didn't quite catch your name.' 
 Vidal was spared the disagreeable duty of 
 re-introducing himself by Mrs. Lrvine, whose 
 volubility drowned her husband's half-finished 
 sentence. ' He liked it very much when he 
 got there, as I always told him he would ; and 
 he spent a great deal of his time at Castellani's ; 
 besides which there are all sorts of collections, 
 you know, in Eome, for those who like coUec-
 
 28 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 tions. What I myself enjoy most of all is 
 seeing the people — not, of course, that one 
 doesn't fully appreciate the scenery and the 
 pictures and the ruins ; but I must say I am 
 fond of society, especially of the sort of society 
 that one gets abroad — such a complete change, 
 you know. One makes some really delightful 
 acquaintances, and others which, perhaps, one 
 wouldn't care to keep \}c^ at home; but that 
 only renders them the more entertaining for 
 the time being. I like to see all kinds of 
 people and things ; don't you, Mr. Yidal ? 
 But I am sure you must, because you would 
 naturally be always seeking for material for 
 those charming books of yours.' 
 
 A momentary pause, occasioned by the 
 speaker's having hastily swallowed a glass of 
 wine the wrong way, enabled Yidal to observe 
 that his books would doubtless be charming if 
 he had published any, but that he hadn't. 
 
 Mrs. Irvine was not disconcerted. ' You
 
 HERIOT'S FRIENDS 29 
 
 write, though,' she persisted. 'I am certain 
 that Mr. Heriot told me you wrote. And after 
 all, I often think it must be a great deal more 
 difficult to compose clever essays and articles 
 and — and all that sort of thing than novels, 
 which can't require any very vast amount of 
 talent, since such numbers of people produce 
 them. Once I began a novel myself, but I 
 have never found time to go on with it. Oh, 
 and, by- the -bye, I wonder whether you could 
 help me to find a situation as governess for a 
 very charming Italian lady who is at present 
 just keeping body and soul together by writing 
 for the newspapers, and who was at one time 
 on the stage, and is altogether most accom- 
 phshed and agreeable. Embroiders quite 
 exquisitely, too, and makes all her own dresses, 
 which I think is so creditable to her, poor 
 thing ! I feel sure that she would be a delight- 
 ful addition to any household — not, of course, 
 to your own ; only you might just mention her
 
 30 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 to your friends, and I should be too happy to 
 answer any inquiries. Mrs. Irvine, Cardrew, 
 near Polruth, Cornwall ; telegrams to Polruth 
 station. — Mr. Heriot, do you know 'of anyone 
 who wants a thorough finishing governess ? ' 
 
 ' Who has been on the stage, embroiders 
 beautifully, writes for the newspapers, and 
 makes her own frocks? No,' answered Heriot 
 thoughtfully, ' I can't call to mind anyone at 
 the present moment ; but with such quahfica- 
 tions there ought to be no difficulty at all 
 about placing her. Wliat of your last jpro- 
 tegee, Mrs. Irvine ? — the lady's-maid who had 
 been a nun and was compelled to leave her 
 convent through conviction of the errors of 
 Eomanism.' 
 
 Mrs. Irvine made a gesture of despair. 
 ' Don't speak of her ! ' She bent across the 
 table and continued in an impressive whisper, 
 ' It was the most unfortunate thing ! Do you 
 know, I did get her a situation — and an
 
 HERIOTS FRIENDS 31 
 
 excellent one — with an old lady ; and though, 
 naturally, she was a little inexperienced, all 
 went well for three or four months, when she 
 began to fail in health, and — w^ell, I can't 
 finish, but I dare say you can guess what 
 happened. Anything more shocking I never 
 heard of ; and the old lady was so very angry 
 with me, and said I ought to have known. 
 But, as I told her, how could I know ? And 
 I am afraid she can never have been a nun at 
 all.' 
 
 ' Let us hope not,' said Heriot. ' And how 
 have things been going on at Polruth during 
 your absence ? ' 
 
 'Pretty well, on the whole. But there 
 have been some unfortunate occurrences ; and 
 only this morning Mr. Irvine had a letter 
 telling him of a positive disaster. It seems 
 that the Mevagissey men have been fishing in 
 Polruth Bay, which of course they have no sort 
 of business to do. So the Polruth men went
 
 32 
 
 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 out in the middle of the night and cut all the 
 nets adrift, and it wasn't until the morning that 
 they found they had cut away their own nets 
 by mistake. You may imagine what distress 
 this has caused in the place ; and what is to be 
 done I can't think, unless I can induce Lord 
 St. Austell to subscribe liberally, which, as you 
 know, will not be an easy matter. However, I 
 must do my best as soon as I get home.' 
 
 In this way Yidal was relieved of the func- 
 tions of a listener, which, to be sure, he had 
 been fulfilhng but indifferently from the outset. 
 For he had not been two minutes in the room 
 before the best part of his attention had 
 become concentrated upon a girl of remarkable 
 beauty who was seated opposite to him, and on 
 Heriot's right hand. He had not at first 
 supposed her to be in any way connected with 
 his new acquaintances, but his neighbour's 
 casual reference to her daughter and Heriot's 
 evident intimacy with the young lady had
 
 HERIOT'S FRIENDS 33 
 
 seemed to point pretty conclusively to the 
 inference that she must be Miss Irvine, though 
 how such parents had come to possess such a 
 child was one of those mysteries with which 
 Nature dehghts to baffle the evolutionist. 
 
 Miss Irvine personified the type of beauty 
 claimed by our island as peculiarly its own. 
 Tall, graceful, with a flawless complexion, and 
 a small head, well set on her shoulders, she 
 had the look of breedinor which characterises 
 that type in its highest stage of development. 
 Her hair had in it, besides a touch of gold, 
 several shades of brown, the darkest of these 
 gradations being reproduced in her eyebrows 
 and eyelashes, which last were long and 
 curved. Her eyes also were of uncertain 
 colour, varying from dark blue to light grey, 
 according as the lights fell or her mood 
 influenced her. In a physical sense, therefore, 
 she had been more than generously treated by 
 Fortune : it remained to be seen what inner 
 
 VOL. I D
 
 34 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 charms might correspond with or contradict 
 this outer perfection ; and that was not to be 
 determined by a cursory survey. So, at least, 
 Vidal conchided, after studying the girl care- 
 fully for a matter of ten minutes. At the end 
 of that time he had discovered that she was of 
 a somewhat dreamy and romantic tempera- 
 ment, that she was totally free from self-con- 
 sciousness, and that she had a sweet temper, 
 together with rather more pride than was 
 desirable for her own happiness or for the 
 happiness of those nearest to her. 
 
 This, to be sure, was a good deal to have 
 found out by merely watching the play of a 
 person's features during so brief a space ; but 
 Vidal prided himself upon his abihty to read 
 character, and only wondered that his investi- 
 o^ations should have led him to no more definite 
 judgment than the above. One other discovery 
 he had made — namely, that he was begmning 
 to fall a little in love with the fair subject of
 
 HERIOT'S FRIENDS 35 
 
 his analysis ; but this did not disturb him so 
 much as it might be supposed to do by persons 
 who attach a more serious meaning to the 
 phrase than he did. In fact, it did not disturb 
 him at all. His was a susceptible nature, and 
 he was in the habit of falling a httle in love 
 with most of the pretty faces that came within 
 his ken. No one was any the worse for these 
 passing fancies, which he was rather disposed 
 to cultivate, having an impression that they 
 exercised a refining and elevating influence 
 upon him. 
 
 During the progress of dinner it happened 
 that his eyes more than once met those of his 
 opposite neighbour, and he could not help 
 perceiving that she regarded him with a 
 certain degree of interest and curiosity. That 
 being so, it became a matter of imperative 
 necessity that he should exchange a few obser- 
 vations with her -. only he hesitated to break 
 
 D 2
 
 36 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 the ice without that preliminary formula which 
 is so essential to the comfort of Englishmen. 
 ' I wonder why Heriot didn't introduce me ? ' he 
 mused. ' I'll get him to do it directly after- 
 wards/
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTEE m. 
 
 AFTER DIXXER. 
 
 As it turned out, there was no need for the 
 ceremony which Vidal had made up his mind 
 to sohcit. When the table-d'hote was at an 
 end, the greater part of the assemblage, in- 
 cluding those ^\e members of it with whom 
 we have to do, trooped out to the colonnade 
 in front of the hotel to listen to the band ; and 
 so Yidal presently found himself seated beside 
 Miss Irvine, who at once addressed him. 
 What she said is hardly worth recording. The 
 range of subjects upon which it is possible to 
 open conversation with a total stranger does 
 not afford much scope for originahty, nor was 
 Miss Irvine ambitious of achieving smaU effects.
 
 38 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 But Vidal was as miicli delighted with her 
 natural ease of manner as with the soft contralto 
 tones of her voice. For the present, he was 
 quite content to exchange commonplaces with 
 her, to establish the fact that she and he sym- 
 pathised upon a variety of unimportant points, 
 and to leave the question of a possible closer 
 relation between them to the dim future. 
 Nevertheless, his interest in his companion had 
 so far deepened at the expiration of a quarter 
 of an hour that it was with some considerable 
 inward anxiety that he asked her whether she 
 would be likely to remain a few days at 
 Lucerne. 
 
 Mrs. Irvine, who had arrived at an hiatus in 
 her colloquy with Heriot, answered the question. 
 ' Well, now, we must really talk this over,' she 
 said, bending forward, with her elbows on her 
 knees. ' We ought to do the place properly, 
 now that we are here. Let me see — there's 
 the Lion, and the bridge with the Dance of
 
 AFTER DINNER 39 
 
 Death, and the organ at the Cathedral : a few 
 hours would exhaust the town, I should say. 
 But then the Eigi railway — and perhaps 
 Pilatus — and oughtn't we to go round the lake 
 in a steamer ? What do you think, Clare ? Is 
 it worth while to stay a day or two ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think I care very much, one way 
 or the other,' answered Miss Irvine, rather dis- 
 appointingly, after a brief consideration of the 
 matter. 
 
 ' It would be a positive sin to leave the 
 place without having been round the lake,' 
 struck in Yidal eagerly. ' You ought to de- 
 vote three days, at the very least, to Lucerne. 
 Could we not make up a party and see what 
 there is to be seen ? For my part, I should 
 never forgive myself if I went away without 
 having studied the Eigi railway. Now, don't 
 you agree with me, Heriot .^ ' 
 
 ' I am afraid,' said Heriot, ' that I am rather 
 inclined to agree with Miss Irvine ; I don't care
 
 40 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 much, one way or the other. Still, I am quite 
 ready to do what everybody else wishes.' 
 
 Neither his words nor his tone were quite 
 as amiable as usual, and Vidal wondered why. 
 If Heriot had not been Heriot, it would almost 
 have looked as though the green-eyed monster 
 were at work. But, for more reasons than 
 one, that surmise was inadmissible, and pre- 
 sently it seemed to strike the last speaker that 
 he had been wanting in cordiality, for he added 
 briskly, ' Of course I should enjoy having a day 
 or two with you, Adrian ; and though I have 
 seen the Lake of Lucerne before, other people 
 haven't. I suppose there is no need for you 
 to hurry home, is there, Mrs. L:vine ? ' 
 
 ' Well, no doubt they would be able to get 
 on without me for a few days longer,' repUed 
 that lady, making the admission a trifle un- 
 willingly. 'There are heaps of things that I 
 must see about as soon as I get back ; but after 
 all, two days is only forty-eight hours— or
 
 AFTER DINNER 41 
 
 indeed one may say only about sixteen, making 
 deductions for sleeping and eating. Suppose 
 we put it to the vote. Mr. Yidal is in favour 
 of our remaining ; Clare and Mr. Heriot are 
 indifferent ; so that unless I vote with the ayes 
 we shall get no decision. Very well, then we 
 will consider the motion carried.' 
 
 It did not appear to have occurred to any- 
 body to inquire the opinion of Mr. Irvine, who 
 had drifted away aimlessly into the darkness 
 some time before, and had not reappeared. In 
 a few minutes the ladies withdrew, and no 
 sooner were they out of earshot than Yidal 
 broke forth into impetuous praises of Miss 
 Irvine's beauty. 
 
 ' My dear Heriot, why didn't you mention 
 her when you were talking about them before 
 dinner ? She is far and away the most ex- 
 quisite creature I ever beheld ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, she is a beautiful girl,' said Heriot, 
 rather drily.
 
 42 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' And as good as she is beautiful, I am 
 sure.' 
 
 ' Oh, well, that would be saying a great 
 deal, wouldn't it ? To the best of my belief, 
 she is neither better nor worse than the 
 generality of young ladies who have not been 
 very long out of the schoolroom. No ; that 
 is not quite true : she is better than the 
 generality in some respects ; for there is a 
 freshness and innocency about her which ' 
 
 ' Well ? ' asked Vidal ; for Heriot had come 
 to a full stop. 
 
 ' Which, in the nature of things, can't last 
 much longer — m ore's the pity. If I were you, 
 Adrian, I wouldn't flirt with her. She doesn't 
 understand the game yet, and why should you 
 be the one to teach it to her ? ' 
 
 Now Yidal had a theory, founded upon 
 experience, that the game of flirtation is one in 
 which no woman, however young, stands in 
 need of an instructor. He did not, however, 
 even inwardly, seek to apply it in the present
 
 AFTER DINNER 43 
 
 instance, but contented himself with an ener- 
 getic disclaimer of the intention attributed to 
 him. 
 
 ' Surely,' he exclaimed, ' I may be permitted 
 to admire respectfully what no man with eyes 
 in his head could help admiring ! And really 
 I don't know why you should take it for 
 granted that Miss Irvine would condescend to 
 flirt with me if I wished her to do so. But I 
 don't wish anything of the kind.' 
 
 Heriot smiled. He was quite conscious of 
 the absurdity of his appeal, but he had not 
 found himself able to resist making it. ' How 
 long are you going to be in Switzerland .? ' he 
 asked, with an abrupt change of subject. 
 
 ' Well, I thought about a month ; but I 
 may stay longer if I find solitude conducive to 
 work. You see, Heriot, I don't quite know 
 yet whether it is in me to write a good novel, 
 and I want to make sure and to give myself 
 every chance. I didn't do my utmost with 
 that last book ; I doubt whether I should do
 
 44 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 my utmost with this one if I were in London, 
 Kable to constant interruptions. It is true that 
 the brain is apt to grow sluggish when one has 
 no company to keep one ahve ; but whether 
 that disadvantage isn't partly compensated for 
 
 by ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' broke in a deprecating 
 voice, 'but can you tell me whether this is 
 the principal inn of the place ? I have lost my 
 way, and cannot at this moment recall the 
 name of my hotel. The Soldierhof — or 
 Shoulderhof — or ' 
 
 ' Try Schweizerhof,' suggested Heriot. 
 ' Your instinct has led you to the right place, 
 Mr. Irvine ; and I shall be dehghted to show 
 you the way up to your room.' 
 
 Perhaps he was not altogether sorry to 
 escape the end of a dissertation to which not 
 even the most devoted of friends could be 
 expected to listen without some degree of 
 boredom.
 
 45 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 MISS IRVINE. 
 
 When Yidal woke on the following morning 
 the sunshine was streaming into his room. 
 Lucerne had been up and about for hours. 
 The church bells were ringing ; the steamers 
 were blowing their hoarse whistles ; from the 
 quay without came guttural shouts, and from 
 the corridors within the tramp of departing 
 travellers and the banging of heavy trunks. 
 But Yidal no longer anathematised this un- 
 ending turmoil. On the contrary, so completely 
 was this young man's judgment at the mercy 
 of a mood that he actually found something 
 cheerful and exhilarating in the signs of sur- 
 rounding life and movement that were thus
 
 46 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 borne to him ; and so far from stigmatising his 
 fellow-tourists as ' vile,' would, upon the 
 slightest provocation, have been quite wilhng 
 to shake hands with them all round. 
 
 He got up and threw open his window. 
 The deep blue lake was like a mirror in some 
 places, and flecked with passing breezes in 
 others ; nearer to the shore every wavelet was 
 a flashing diamond; the sky overhead was 
 unclouded ;^ but up the sides of the distant 
 mountains light mists were ciu:ling and vanish- 
 ing. Evidently there was going to be glorious 
 weather, and Yidal, being in such good 
 humour, determined that, as a reward for 
 having worked so hard of late, he should have 
 two whole days of idleness and enjoyment — or, 
 upon Mrs. Irvine's calculation, sixteen hours, 
 making deductions for food and sleep. Per- 
 haps, even, it would not be necessary to sub- 
 tract so long a time ; since meals are not gene- 
 rally eaten in solitude, and many people like
 
 MISS IRVINE 47 
 
 to sit up late when the nights are fine and the 
 moon at the fiill. 
 
 All this only shows with what alarming 
 rapidity a susceptible man will jump to con- 
 clusions ; for assuredly it was neither by him- 
 self, nor with Heriot, nor even with Mrs. Irvine, 
 that our young friend looked forward to con- 
 templating the moon. He dressed after a 
 leisurely, dawdling fashion, pausing every now 
 and again to lean out of the window and look 
 down upon the clipped horse-chestnut alley 
 beneath, and upon the passers-by. And so it 
 befell that, during one of these pauses, he 
 became aware of a lady seated upon the low 
 wall beside the lake. This lady wore a dress 
 of white serge, and was sitting sideways, in 
 such a manner as to display one of the neatest 
 boots that ever gladdened the eyes of an appre- 
 ciative spectator. Unfortunately, she carried 
 a large sunshade, which concealed the upper 
 part of her person ; but, although Yidal had
 
 48 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 never seen the dress before in his hfe, and 
 could not have sworn to the boot, he felt no 
 doubt at all as to the identity of the wearer. 
 He remained watching her patiently until a 
 change of posture caused her to raise her sun- 
 shade for a moment, and revealed the head of 
 Miss Irvine, surmounted by one of those straw 
 sailor hats which are becoming even to plain 
 women, and, when worn by pretty ones, are 
 simply irresistible. 
 
 After that glimpse there was clearly only 
 one thing to be done. Vidal performed the 
 remainder of his toilet with the utmost despatch, 
 and was upon the point of running downstairs 
 and crossing the road, when he was arrested by a 
 most unpleasing spectacle. Taking a last glance 
 out of the window, he perceived that Miss 
 Irvine had altered her position. She now had 
 her back turned towards him, and was leaning 
 over the wall ; while beside her, in a similar 
 attitude, was a tall individual, whose get-up.
 
 MISS IRVINE 49 
 
 as far as could be discerned, was tliat of a 
 modern young Englisliman of fashion. 
 
 ' So much for childHke innocence and 
 ignorance of the wicked ways of men ! ' was 
 Yidal's hasty and unjust comment upon what 
 he saw. ' I might have known that young- 
 ladies don't get up at eight o'clock in the 
 morning for nothing.' 
 
 So he threw himself down in his arm-chair, 
 and decided that he wouldn't take a hoHday 
 after all. What! make one of a party to 
 circumnavigate that weary lake and talk to a 
 tedious old woman, while the daughter was 
 amusing herself with her long-legged admirer ? 
 Hardly ! No ; he would go for a long walk 
 into the country all by himself, and cease to 
 trouble his head about people whom he was 
 most unhkely ever to meet again. But it was 
 not in Yidal's nature to sit and sulk in a corner 
 long, and after a time he began to see that he 
 was behaving very foolishly. Was it to be 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 supposed that Miss Irvine could have reached 
 her present age (she looked about twenty) 
 without having had a single admirer? And 
 because she allowed her admirers to speak to 
 her, did it follow that she reciprocated their 
 admiration or made appointments with them ? 
 Again, why should not the gentleman with the 
 long legs be her brother or her cousin? 
 Finally, what the deuce did it matter to him — 
 Vidal — who or what the fellow might be ? 
 
 Having reached the conclusion that it didn't 
 matter in the least, he went downstairs and 
 sauntered across the road to the horse-chestnut 
 alley, beneath which Miss Irvine and the un- 
 known were stiU standing. Of course it would 
 never do to interrupt their conversation ; but 
 Vidal thought he would just walk slowly past, 
 and she could see him or not, as she pleased. 
 
 He duly executed this manoeuvre, with the 
 result that Miss Irvine not only saw him, but 
 was evidently pleased into the bargain. She
 
 MISS IRVINE 51 
 
 smiled, nodded, and when the young man made 
 as though he would have passed on, stopped 
 him with a gesture. 
 
 ' Are you taking an early constitutional ? ' 
 she asked. It struck Vidal that she was rather 
 anxious for the company of a third person. 
 
 Her interlocutor, it appeared, did not share 
 this anxiety. ' Well, good-bye. Miss Irvine,' 
 he said. 'I hope we may meet in England 
 before long ; and if not — weU, perhaps you 
 will let me hear from you.' 
 
 He was a broad-shouldered, fresh-com- 
 plexioned man of five or six and thirty, with a 
 loud, but not disagreeable voice. Miss Irvine 
 shook hands with him, but made no audible 
 reply, and he strode over to the hotel without 
 bestowing a glance upon the new-comer, who, 
 on the other hand, had carefully taken stock of 
 him. 
 
 ' Is it not a perfect morning ? ' IVIiss Irvine 
 began. 'Have you breakfasted yet? and are 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 you going to do anytliing particular to-day ? 
 My mother has gone off to inspect the bridges ; 
 but she told me that if I saw you or Mr. Heriot, 
 I was to let you know that we think of starting 
 at twelve o'clock to make the tour of the lake. 
 She hoped you might be inclined to come with 
 us.' 
 
 There was a certain hurry and nervousness 
 in the girl's manner which Yidal did not fail to 
 notice ; but he had been too much pleased at 
 hearing of the stranger's imminent departure 
 for England to care whether he was or was not 
 a suitor for Miss Irvine's hand. 
 
 ' I should enjoy it of all things,' he answered 
 heartily ; ' and I am sure Heriot will like to 
 come.' He added, with a disingenuousness of 
 which he ought to have been ashamed, ' The 
 face of your friend who was here just now 
 seems to be famihar to me — and yet I am not 
 sure. His name isn't — isn't Parker, is it ? ' 
 
 •No,' answered Miss Irvine calmly; 'his
 
 MISS IRVINE S3 
 
 name isn't Parker.' She had raised her eyes, 
 with just the faintest shade of surprise in them, 
 to those of her questioner. She did not exhibit 
 any of the embarrassment which he had half 
 expected, and he felt that it was he who was 
 looking rather foolish. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' he murmured confusedly : ' T — T 
 thought perhaps it was.' 
 
 ' He is a Mr. Wilbraham, whom we met 
 last winter,' Miss Irvine said. ' Do you know 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' No ; I must have been mistaken. One 
 person is so like another.' 
 
 ' So papa always says ; and perhaps, now 
 that you mention it, Mr. Wilbraham's is rather 
 a common type of face. Would you care to 
 walk as far as the bridge with me ? I think 
 I had better go and find my mother.' 
 
 Vidal made use of no conventional figure of 
 speech when he replied that he should be de- 
 lighted. Nothing, indeed, could have been
 
 54 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 more delightful to him than Miss Irvine's 
 society ; and the matter-of-course way in which 
 she offered it convinced him that his first im- 
 pression of her had been correct, and that her 
 beauty was equalled only by her simphcity. 
 
 ' I am so glad that we are going to stay a 
 day or two here/ she said, after they had 
 proceeded a few yards on their way. ' I sup- 
 pose we should have been starting now, if we 
 had made up our minds to go straight home. 
 How horrid it would have been ! ' 
 
 ' You said last night that you didn't care 
 whether you stayed or not,' remarked Vidal. 
 
 She laughed. ' Well, I couldn't tell that 
 it was going to be such a fine day. Besides, all 
 sorts of things may happen to prevent one from 
 enjoying an excursion. Tiresome people may 
 turn up, for instance ; and there is no possibihty 
 of escape from them on board a steamer.' 
 
 This was most satisfactory. ' Tiresome 
 people ' obviously meant Mr. Wilbraham ; and
 
 MISS IRVINE\ 55 
 
 since it seemed to be implied that lie had turned 
 up unexpectedly, there was no occasion to 
 harbour any further feeling of mahce against 
 the poor man. Vidal's spirits, which had 
 hitherto been a trifle depressed, now fully re- 
 covered their tone ; and if his companion did 
 not find him clever and amusing, she must have 
 been singularly insensible to qualities which 
 had made this fortunate fellow a general 
 favourite, from his boyhood up. 
 
 So these two passed on through sunlight 
 and shade till they reached the old covered 
 bridge, where Mrs. Irvine, with ' Murray ' in 
 her hands and her chin in the air, was labori- 
 ously examining the quaint triangular paintings 
 overhead, and endeavouring to decipher the 
 crabbed German characters of the legend which 
 each scene bore, inscribed beneath it. 
 
 ' Oh, here you are at last, Clare ! ' she 
 exclaimed. ' And you have brought Mr. Vidal 
 with you, which is such a comfort, because I
 
 56 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 am sure he understands German better than I 
 do. — Now, Mr. Yidal, will you explain this to 
 me ? It is most interesting, and Murray gives 
 one no sort of help. " Scenes relating to the 
 history of the town," he says, or something of 
 that kind. Just enough to excite one's curiosity 
 without gratifying it, you know.' 
 
 ' Well, Mrs. Irvine,' answered Vidal, with 
 great presence of mind, ' the fact is that some 
 of the subjects are not quite — that is, it is better 
 not to inquire into them too closely.' 
 
 ' Good gracious me, you don't say so ! ' ex- 
 claimed the good lady. ' I should never have 
 supposed that from the look of them. — Clare, 
 we had better seek out your father and keep 
 him until the boat starts, or he will be sure to 
 wander off somewhere and lose himself. Never 
 mind the pictures : they have no artistic merit 
 — not a bit worth looking at.' 
 
 With that she bustled away, carrying off 
 her daughter, who, indeed, had not been look-
 
 MISS IRVINE 57 
 
 ing at the pictures, but at the rushing blue-green 
 waters of the Eeuss beneath ; and so Vidal got 
 home to breakfast. 
 
 The prospect of spending six or seven con- 
 secutive hours on board a lake steamer in com- 
 pany which demands a more or less incessant 
 flow of conversation is one from which the 
 generahty of mankind may vrell shrink appalled. 
 Silence is the prerogative of intimacy; to 
 acquaintances of recent date you are bound to 
 go on talking ; and unless you are blessed with 
 an exceptionally fertile brain, the result is but 
 too certain. Economise your stock of subjects 
 as you may, it must needs run dry at last ; you 
 search in vain for fresh ones ; then a numbing 
 sense of lassitude steals over you, and finally 
 comes the inevitable moment when Nature 
 asserts herself, and you yawn undisguisedly in 
 the face of your neighbour, whose jaws fly open 
 in ready sympathy. But there are certain 
 persons who are strangers to such dismal ex-
 
 58 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 periences, and Adrian Yidal was one of them. 
 Solitude often bored him ; society scarcely ever. 
 He took a real interest, not only in humanity at 
 large, but in almost every individual whom he 
 encountered ; whence, no doubt, arose his great 
 popularity. Like Abou ben Adhem, he might 
 have cried, ' Write me as one who loves his 
 fellow-men ; ' and the just system of reciprocity 
 which prevails in all human afiairs caused him 
 to be beloved by them in return. 
 
 Therefore, neither he nor the lady to whom 
 he devoted himself through the greater part of 
 that spring day found the time long or wished 
 for a change of partners. Miss Irvine, it is 
 true, was not very difficult to get on with ; for 
 she was predisposed in favour of the young 
 author, to whom, shortly after the boat had 
 left the quay, she began to speak of those 
 literary ambitions which he might reasonably 
 be supposed to cherish. She had not her 
 mother's unflattering vagueness of impression
 
 MISS IRVINE 59 
 
 as to Yidal's past actdevements ; she was well 
 aware that he had as yet produced no book, 
 charming or otherwise ; but Heriot had shown 
 her some of his articles, and these she had read 
 with the reverence and admiration for printed 
 matter which belongs to youth. 
 
 ' Do you know,' she said, ' you are the first 
 author I have ever met ? I think if I were a 
 man, I would rather be an author than any- 
 thing else.' 
 
 ' But it is not necessary to be a man in 
 order to be an author,' remarked Vidal ; ' and 
 I am afraid if the truth were known, most men 
 are only authors — at least, novelists — because 
 they can't be anything else.' 
 
 ' I don't think you can mean that,' said 
 Miss Irvine — and in fact it is probable that he 
 did not. ' You surely would not place Dickens 
 or Thackeray below a successful doctor or 
 lawyer ? ' 
 
 ' No ; but perhaps the rank and file of our
 
 6o ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 calling are rather below the rank and file of 
 others. At all events, that is the common 
 opinion. We are a discredited class, because 
 the immense appetite for fiction causes 
 hundreds of novels to pay their way which 
 have no business to pay their way. Novel- 
 writing is hke every other art : it looks so easy 
 and it is so difficult ! Only in other arts the 
 failure is more apparent and more decisive ; 
 so that those who have mistaken their vocation 
 find it out sooner.' 
 
 '1 suppose the great thing is to be very 
 much in earnest over it,' said the girl thought- 
 fully. 
 
 ' Exactly ; that is the one indispensable 
 condition. Art won't accept a divided allegi- 
 ance. You must give yourself up to her wholly 
 and entirely, or she will never allow you a 
 chance of conquering her.' 
 
 'Do you think art the only thing worth 
 living for, then ? '
 
 MISS IRVINE 6i 
 
 Mr. Vidal was not prepared to go quite so 
 far as that. He explained that he had been 
 speaking only of a temporary self-surrender, 
 and that he was well aware that hfe contained 
 possibilities of happiness such as art could 
 never bestow. But it would be hardly fair 
 upon him to record any more of the sentiments 
 to which he gave utterance upon this occasion. 
 When a man is falling more and more deeply in 
 love every minute, he must needs say things 
 which would sound supremely ridiculous to an 
 eavesdropper ; and if Vidal was a little high- 
 flown in his talk, it must be admitted that he 
 met mth a good deal of encouragement. Miss 
 Irvine evidently did not find him ridiculous. 
 She ignored his occasional lapses into senti- 
 mentality, but seemed willing to admit him to 
 terms of confidential intimacy. She questioned 
 him upon the subject of his family, and told him 
 about her own home in Cornwall, and her six 
 brothers, and the difficulty that there had been in
 
 62 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 providing that stalwart half-dozen with educa- 
 tion and a start in life. ' For we are not par- 
 ticularly well off,' she added simply. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Irvine harangued the 
 patient Heriot ; and Mr. Irvine dozed in the 
 shade; and the steamer pursued its zigzag 
 course, crossing and recrossing the lake, passing 
 beneath wooded cliffs, and stopping at villages 
 where cattle were taken on board or dis- 
 embarked, and where the huge hotels and 
 pensions were as yet untenanted ; until at last 
 Fluelen was reached, and Vidal and Miss Irvine 
 exclaimed, ' Already ! ' in one breath. 
 
 Fluelen does not offer many attractions to 
 the casual visitor ; but Vidal long preserved, 
 and perhaps still preserves, a grateful memory 
 of the place. For the hour which had to be 
 spent there before the steamer started on its 
 return voyage proved one of the pleasantest 
 that had fallen to his lot in a hfe composed 
 largely of pleasant hours. Mr. Ir\ane expressed
 
 MISS IRVINE 63 
 
 his intention of drinking a cup of tea quietly at 
 the inn ; and his wife, after consulting Murray, 
 found that she could keep him company with- 
 out neglecting her duty. ' If you want to walk 
 about, Clare,' she said, ' I dare say Mr. Heriot 
 or Mr. Vidal will be kind enough to look after 
 you.' 
 
 To this appeal Heriot did not see fit to 
 make any response ; and thus the conversation 
 which had begun on board the steamer was 
 continued with even less danger of interruption. 
 By this time Vidal's subjugation was an accom- 
 plished fact, and he knew it and gloried in it. 
 In Miss Irvine he saw, not merely a girl of 
 siugular beauty and charm of manner, but far 
 more than that — nothing less, indeed, than the 
 Ideal Woman. He recognised in her the em- 
 bodiment of all the virtues which are supposed 
 to be especially feminine — purity of mind, 
 charity, sympathy with the afflicted, devotion 
 to her family. It must be confessed that she
 
 64 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 obtained this recognition upon tolerably easy 
 terms, and that Vidal was satisfied to draw 
 inferences where people of more matiu-e years 
 might have demanded tangible proofs ; but 
 perhaps in this he did not differ greatly from 
 other lovers ; nor was it very wonderful that 
 such simple things as a few kind words spoken 
 to a cripple, and some coppers bestowed upon 
 a beggar at the church door, should have served 
 him as a foot upon which to mould a Hercules. 
 Moreover, as it happened, he was not very far 
 wrong in his inductions, and if he could have 
 made inquiries down in Cornwall he would 
 have heard from many mouths a description of 
 Clare Irvine enthusiastic enough to have ful- 
 filled even his high expectations. That there 
 might be nothing wanting in her, she had a 
 touch of melancholy in her manner at times, 
 and a dreamy look in her eyes, which seemed 
 to suggest unsatisfied yearnings. It would not 
 have been consonant with Vidal's conception of
 
 MISS IRVINE 65 
 
 her that she should have been altogether happy, 
 although he had not yet quite reached the 
 length of picturing himself as the one thing 
 lacking to give her hfe completeness. 
 
 After they had wandered through the 
 streets of the little town into the country be- 
 yond, and when the bell of the steamer had 
 warned them that it was time to retrace their 
 steps, she asked Yidal to gather a handful of 
 wild crocuses for her ; whereupon he begged for 
 one of the flowers for himself. ' I should like 
 to have some memento of to-day,' he said. 
 
 The girl glanced at him for a moment with 
 a grave and rather startled look, and then 
 laughed, as if not wishing to make too much of 
 a trifle. ' Yes, it has been a very pleasant day,' 
 she answered, but did not give him the flower. 
 
 He was rather sorry that he had committed 
 the indiscretion of asking for it when he per- 
 ceived the efiect produced by his request ; for 
 after that she became perceptibly less commu- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 nicative, and contrived so to arrange matters 
 that he had to hsten to M's. Irvine's descrip- 
 tions of Eoman society the whole way back to 
 Lucerne. Disappointing as this was, Vidal 
 submitted to his fate with resignation and good 
 humour ; and perhaps it was just as well for 
 him that he did so. Talking him over later in 
 the evening, with Heriot, Mrs. Irvine pro- 
 nounced him to be one of the most delightfu 
 and intelligent young men she had ever met 
 adding that she had a very great mind tc 
 prolong their sojourn at Lucerne by another 
 day, as he had entreated her to do. 
 
 Heriot looked a httle doubtful, and said, 
 'Well, if you think it would be wise' — but 
 as Mrs. Irvine did not understand him, and as 
 he hardly liked to be more exphcit, the extra 
 day was granted, and an excursion to the Lake 
 of Zug added several more hours of sunshine 
 and bliss to the credit side of Yidal's account 
 with time.
 
 MISS IRVINE 67 
 
 But on the third day, unhappily, the sun- 
 shine vanished. The mountains were shrouded 
 in woolly clouds ; across the grey lake showers 
 came sweeping at intervals, and only one of 
 the party had the hardihood to assert that it 
 would be worth while to go up the Eigi in 
 such weather, 
 
 ' You see,' Yidal said, '• it isn't for the sake 
 of the mountain, which is a cockneyfied sort of 
 place at the best of times ; and the view — well, 
 of course there are people who admire a pano- 
 ramic view, but I really don't think we need 
 regret the loss of that very much. What I am 
 sure that you would regret most deeply, Mi's. 
 Irvine, w^ould be to have missed seeing the 
 railway. Gradients of one in four — just think 
 of that ! ' 
 
 ' Can't we sit still and revel in the thought 
 of a gradient of one in foiu* without getting 
 wet through ? ' suggested Heriot. 
 
 'My dear fellow, it's one of those things 
 
 p2
 
 68 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 that must be seen to be realised. Besides, the 
 railway carriages are covered.' 
 
 Mrs. Irvine showed signs of wavering. 
 ' The worst of it is that one is sure to meet 
 such heaps of friends who have done it, and 
 who will pretend that it was the most exciting 
 experience of their lives,' she murmured. 
 
 ' Exactly so,' said Vidal ; ' and after all, 
 the only alternative is to stay indoors all day. 
 For my part, I shouldn't be at all surprised if 
 it were to clear up in the afternoon.' 
 
 His representations were strengthened by 
 a timely break in the clouds, and also — some- 
 what unexpectedly — by Mr. Irvine, whose soul 
 was thirsting after an illuminated missal which 
 he had unearthed in a curiosity shop, and who 
 wished to be removed from temptation. The 
 consequence was that, although the weather 
 became worse instead of improving, the 
 strongest will carried the day, and five tra- 
 vellers in mackintoshes and waterproofs dis-
 
 MISS IRVINE 69 
 
 embarked at Weggis that afternoon. All that 
 Heriot had been able to obtain, by way of 
 compromise, was that, since there could be 
 nothing whatever to be gained by ascending 
 to the top of the mountain, they should content 
 themselves with going as far as Kaltbad and 
 returning by the next train. Thus, he said, 
 they might hope to accomplish their purpose 
 with a minimum of misery. 
 
 As for Yidal, he saw no question of misery 
 in the matter. It is true that he did not derive 
 any particular satisfaction from standing under 
 the dripping awning of the steamer, nor even 
 from the curious sensation of being dragged in 
 a railway carriage up an incline steeper than 
 the steepest of high roads ; but what he thought 
 was that, when once they had reached their 
 destination. Miss Irvine might perhaps be dis- 
 posed to take a short walk, upon the chance of 
 catching a glimpse of view through the clouds, 
 and he insisted a great deal upon the proba-
 
 70 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 bility that at a certain height the rain would 
 be replaced by mist. 
 
 Both of these expectations were justified 
 by the event. At Kaltbad, where there is a 
 gigantic hotel, empty in the month of May, but 
 crowded later in the season, nothing worse was 
 encountered than a nipping cold air and a 
 dense white fog ; and when the three elders 
 had grouped themselves round the stove, ex- 
 pressing their unalterable determination not to 
 move thence until the train should come to 
 take them down, it required but a very little 
 exercise of diplomacy to carry out the remainder 
 of the programme.
 
 71 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 All sorts of extravagant ideas passed through 
 Vidal's head as he walked along the mountain 
 side with the girl whom he loved, and whom he 
 had known for barely three days. Every now 
 and again the mist- wreaths parted, showing them 
 some sombre peak towering high overhead, or 
 a gleam of grey water from beneath ; then 
 they were wrapped once more in a sort of 
 white darkness, through which they could 
 hardly distinguish one another's forms. They 
 seemed so completely alone, so separated from 
 the world and all its conventionalities, that 
 Vidal, upon whom external conditions always 
 possessed a strong influence, felt as if there
 
 72 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 would be nothing very strange in speaking his 
 heart out and saying, ' I love you.' 
 
 But, underlying the impetuosity of his 
 nature, there was ever a vein of common- sense, 
 which had preserved him from the commis- 
 sion of many absurdities before then, and he 
 had more reasons than one for knowing that 
 the utterance of those three words must be 
 preceded by a considerable period of reflection. 
 Therefore he did no more than repeat them 
 many times inwardly, and only said aloud, 
 ' So you are really going away to-morrow ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered the girl, with something 
 like a sigh. ' I am sorry. It is as if we had 
 come to the end of the hohdays, though we 
 are going home.' 
 
 ' It is something to have a home to go to 
 when holiday-time is over,' remarked Vidal. 
 
 'And have you no home.^ Oh no, I re- 
 member you told me that you had rooms in 
 London. That can hardly be like a home,
 
 IN THE CLOUDS 73 
 
 I suppose. You said you had a mother 
 thougli.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I am blessed with a mother, and also 
 with a sister. But we are three. I am glad to 
 say that we are always very good friends when 
 we meet ; but it is doubtful whether we should 
 continue to be so if we lived under one roof. 
 So we don't live under one roof; and, in default 
 of a home, I have to make the best of Duke 
 Street, St. James's.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the girl after a short pause. 
 ' I suppose most people must be contented with 
 second bests in this world, and ought to be 
 thankful enough if they get as much.' 
 
 ' I don't agree with you in the least ! ' cried 
 Vidal, with some warmth. ' I think there is 
 nothing so fatal to happiness as making up your 
 mind to be contented with something less than 
 what you want.' 
 
 ' But if you can't get what you want ? — or 
 if you don't quite know what you want ? '
 
 74 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' If YOU don't know, you are in a bad way, 
 I admit ; but siu^ely it ought not to be very 
 difficult to find out ; and then it depends almost 
 entirely upon yourself, I beheve, whether you 
 get it or not. There are very few things, 
 except good health, of which a man can say 
 that it is impossible that he should ever gain 
 them.' 
 
 ' Ah, a man — perhaps. But a woman is in 
 a very difierent position. It is not always pos- 
 sible for her to control her destiny ; and even if 
 it were, she might shrink from consulting only 
 her own interests.' 
 
 ' Are you speaking of yourself? ' asked 
 Yidal abruptly. 
 
 Miss Irvine laughed. ' Oh,' she said, ' my 
 destiny is a very uncertain affair as yet, and at 
 any rate I have this advantage over you, that I 
 am quite satisfied with my home. I wonder 
 whether you will ever see it ? Polruth is rather 
 out of the world ; but numbers of people —
 
 IN THE CLOUDS 75 
 
 quite ten families, I should think — come down 
 every summer now for the sea-bathing ; and it 
 is admitted that ours is the finest coast in Eng- 
 land in point of scenery.' 
 
 ' I have been for a long time meditating a 
 tour in Cornwall,' said Vidal, with pardonable 
 mendacity. ' Perhaps I might be able to illus- 
 trate my theory of being able to do what I 
 want to do by turning up in your neighbourhood 
 some time in August.' 
 
 ' Oh, I wish you would ! ' cried Miss Irvine, 
 displaying more frank cordiality than was quite 
 agreeable to her would-be lover. ' If you came 
 in August, Mr. Heriot would be with us, most 
 Hkely ; so that we should be able to offer you 
 that additional attraction. Do try to manage 
 it. I wish we could give you a room ; but I 
 am afraid all the boys will be at home then. 
 However, we could easily find tolerable quar- 
 ters for you in the village.' 
 
 She went on talking about Polruth and
 
 76 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 about Cornisli manners and customs with a good 
 deal of animation, hardly allowing Yidal to get 
 in a word edgeways. Evidently she was desirous 
 of avoiding the more serious subject which tbey 
 had begun to discuss; and this excited her 
 companion's curiosity, and made him determine 
 to re-introduce it at the earliest opportunity. 
 However, she spared him that trouble by 
 recurring to it herself, after a time. They had 
 reached a point near the Eigi Staffel, and, the 
 veil of mist having lifted for a moment, were 
 looking down upon a motionless sea of cloud, 
 out of which dim mountain-tops rose like islands 
 here and there. 
 
 'According to you,' Miss Irvine began 
 abruptly, ' one has only to wish for a thing 
 with sufficient energy, and one is pretty sure to 
 get it. That may be so ; but surely, without 
 being at all heroically unselfish, one must be 
 guided a little by what others wish. One's own
 
 IN THE CLOUDS 77 
 
 happiness ought not to be the sole aim and 
 object of one's hfe.' 
 
 ' I don't say that it should ; although, as a 
 matter of fact, happiness, present or future, is 
 exactly what everybody does piursue. Of course, 
 happiness admits of many definitions. Some 
 people, I firmly believe, get it by simply satis- 
 fying their appetites ; others find it in doing 
 their duty, or in sacrificing themselves for the 
 benefit of their neighbours.' 
 
 ' I can't think that any one would sacrifice 
 himself merely because he expected to be the 
 happier for doing so. But perhaps a sacrifice 
 might cease to be a sacrifice if it gave a great 
 deal of pleasure to those w^hom one cared most 
 about in the world.' 
 
 ' That would depend upon what it involved, 
 I should say. But the fact is that we are at 
 cross purposes. Miss L^vine. I was speaking 
 generally, whereas you are thinking of some 
 particular instance.'
 
 78 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' JSTo ; — at least, I was thinking of something 
 — but it doesn't signify, answered the girl, 
 rather incoherently. ' Ought we not to be 
 going back ? ' 
 
 Yidal looked at his watch, and found that 
 they certainly ought. They had but ten 
 minutes in which to retrace their steps ; and 
 very soon the imprudence of indulging in day- 
 dreams and propounding vague theories while 
 walking through a fog was brought home to 
 him. He did not like to tell Miss Irvine that he 
 had utterly lost his bearings, but when he had 
 spent a quarter of an hour in hurrying her 
 hither and thither the admission was super- 
 fluous. 
 
 ' Mr. Yidal,' she said calmly, ' have you the 
 slightest idea of where we are ? ' 
 
 ' If you insist upon the truth,' answered 
 Yidal, half laughing, ' I must confess that I 
 have not.' 
 
 ' Then hadn't you better shout until some 
 one comes?'
 
 IN THE CLOUDS 79 
 
 It really seemed the only thing to be 
 done. There was something rather humihating 
 in shrieking for assistance, and also in being 
 lost upon a mountain which is traversed by two 
 lines of railway, and sprinkled all over with 
 hotels ; but the awkwardness of the predica- 
 ment that they were in was more apparent to 
 Vidal than to Miss Irvine ; besides which, he 
 had just a faint hope of being able to stop the 
 tram if he could make their whereabouts 
 known. 
 
 This hope died away after he had shouted 
 himself hoarse without eliciting any response, 
 and he was beginning to feel as uncomfortable 
 as he had ever felt in his hfe, when he was 
 startled by a stentorian bellow, proceeding 
 from some point only a few yards away, and 
 immediately afterwards a figiu:e loomed up 
 through the mist, which proved to be that of a 
 native, who had been sent up from the hotel to 
 search for the wanderers. The train had lef'
 
 8o ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 some time since, he explained ; and as, unfor- 
 tunately, it was tlie last one, tlie ' Herrschaft ' 
 had gone down in it. But he could take them 
 down by some short cuts, and there was a boat 
 from Weggis at seven o'clock, which they 
 could easily catch, if the lady did not mind the 
 walk. 
 
 It was only too plain that, whether the lady 
 minded it or not, the walk would have to be 
 undertaken, and Yidal's contrition was so deep 
 and unfeigned that a far less amiable person 
 than Miss Irvine must needs have pardoned 
 him. 
 
 ' It was not your fault,' she said ; ' and I 
 am quite accustomed to rough w^alking and wet 
 weather. So long as we catch the boat, there 
 will be no harm done.' 
 
 Whether she reahsed the situation in all its 
 bearings, Vidal hardly knew ; but, for his own 
 part, he was a good deal vexed, feeling that he 
 had not only let slip the opportunity of saying
 
 IN THE CLOUDS 8i 
 
 many things to her which he would have hked 
 to say, but that he had probably put in serious 
 jeopardy the position that he had won in Mrs. 
 Irvine's good graces. 
 
 Their guide was hastening downhill at a 
 jog-trot which made conversation all but im- 
 possible ; and Miss Irvine declined the young 
 man's repeated offers of assistance, declaring 
 that she was perfectly well able to take care of 
 herself, and begging only that no time might 
 be lost ; but he took advantage, at last, of a 
 short stretch of level ground to turn round and 
 say, ' I hope your mother will not be very angry 
 with me.' 
 
 To which she replied, ' Oh dear, no ! Why 
 should she be ? She will not even be angry 
 with me. My mother is very good-natured.' 
 
 Yidal could but trust that the old lady 
 
 might prove worthy of the character attributed 
 
 to her ; but he felt very ill at ease and ashamed 
 
 of himself; and whec, at length, they reached 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Weggis, weary, muddy, and wet, it was a great 
 relief to him to find only Heriot waiting for 
 them on the landing-stage. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Irvine, it appeared, had been 
 persuaded to go on to Lucerne by the last boat, 
 and Heriot was too glad to see the truants back 
 safe and sound to scold either of them ; but 
 Vidal, knowing the man, saw that he was more 
 annoyed than he wished to show, and as soon 
 as they were on board the steamer he took 
 occasion to apologise. 
 
 ' I'm awfidly sorry to have kept you stand- 
 ing about there in the rain, old man ; but I 
 didn't do it on purpose, you know.' 
 
 ' Oh, the waiting was nothing,' Heriot said. 
 
 ' I didn't give Miss Irvine that long walk 
 on purpose either, as far as that goes.' 
 
 His friend was silent for a minute or two, 
 and then remarked, ' Well, they are going 
 away to-morrow.'
 
 IN THE CLOUDS 83 
 
 ' So that I shan't be able to do it again, do 
 you mean ? ' asked Vidal, laughing. 
 
 ' I mean that I am very glad they are going 
 away,' answered Heriot ; and Vidal did not see 
 fit to press him for an explanation. 
 
 g2
 
 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS.' 
 
 Mrs. Irvine was perhaps less particular or less 
 suspicious than the generahty of mothers. At 
 all events, she did not seem to think that Vidal's 
 heedlessness called for any blame ; but, on the 
 contrary, began to beg his pardon for having 
 run away and left him in the lurch. ' Mr. 
 Irvine did want to set out in search of you,' 
 she said ; ' but, you know, if I had let him do 
 that I should have had to go and look for him, 
 and then somebody else would have had to look 
 for me, and there would have been no end to 
 it. So I persuaded him to come straight back ; 
 and afterwards I was particularly glad that I 
 had done so, because we met the SkefSngtons
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 85 
 
 at the table-d'hote — do you happen to know 
 General Skeffington ? — ^siich a nice man ! — and 
 he was very encouraging about poor Charley. 
 Charley is my second boy, who has failed for 
 the army, poor fellow ! General Skeffington 
 says he isn't in the least surprised. I mean, 
 he thinks that all these examinations are great 
 nonsense, and that an officer ought not to be a 
 bookworm. Fortunately, there is still the 
 militia, so that we need not despair.' 
 
 Mrs. Irvine had innumerable acquaintances, 
 whom she utiUsed, or thought that she utilised, 
 to assist her in heating the equally innumerable 
 quantity of irons which she always had in the 
 fire. The smooth things prophesied to her by 
 General Skeffington and the prospects of the 
 unlearned Charley occupied all her conversation 
 until she badeVidal good-night: and the young 
 man felt that he had been let off cheaply. 
 
 The next morning, at eight o'clock, he was 
 at the station to say good-bye to his new friends.
 
 86 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Heriot, intending to break the journey at Bale, 
 had decided to leave by a later train. It was 
 not without a certain sinking of the heart that 
 our hero followed Miss Irvine, whose travelhng 
 bag and cloak he was carrying, across the plat- 
 form. The three days' romance was at an end, 
 he thought sadly. Yesterday he had not been 
 far from declaring his love ; to-day it seemed 
 impossible that he could ever have dreamt of 
 doing so insane a thing. For what was he, or 
 could he be, to her but a stranger in whose 
 company a few hours had been spent, more or 
 less agreeably — at best, one whom she might 
 have learnt to like if chance had thrown them 
 together for a longer time ? 
 
 They had to part now, like the mere ac- 
 quaintances that they were. And then he 
 thought how beautiful she was, and how, as a 
 matter of course, others besides himself must 
 be captivated by her beauty ; and something 
 seemed to tell him that she was reserved for a
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 87 
 
 higher destiny than he could offer. So opposite 
 are the influences exercised by a mountain top 
 and a railway station ! As he helped her to 
 arrange her paraphernalia, and mechanically 
 uttered the commonplaces suitable to the occa- 
 sion, Alfred de Musset's hues kept ringing in 
 his head — Si je vous le disais, pourtant, que je 
 VOUS aime ! Did she understand at all ? he 
 wondered. And, supposing that she could be 
 made to understand, would she be siu-prised, or 
 angry, or only amused ? At any rate, it was 
 certain that no hint could be conveyed in the 
 midst of all that hurry and bustle. He was 
 obhged to get out of the carriage to make room 
 for Mr. and Mrs. Irvine ; and to them, too, 
 some last words had to be spoken. The old 
 gentleman roused himself to say that his clubs 
 were the Athenaeum and the Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge, and that he hoped Mr. — er — er — Eyder 
 would look him up when he was in London ; 
 and then Mrs. Irvine broke in with —
 
 88 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Oil, but Mr. Yidal is going to pay Corn- 
 wall a visit. — Mr. Heriot, do you know that he 
 talks of being in our parts in August ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Heriot, rather drily. 
 
 ' Yes ; and I was thinking about what 
 rooms there were in Polruth ; and I feel sure 
 that old Mrs. Treweeke would be just the per- 
 son. A most respectable old creature, and 
 would do her very best to make you comfort- 
 able — lost both her sons in a mining accident, 
 poor thing ! so that one would be glad to do 
 her a good turn ; only perhaps you ought to 
 lock the wine up, you know — just as a pre- 
 caution, that's all. But I will make a point of 
 writing to you about it. Have you got one of 
 your cards ? Duke Street, St. James's — thank 
 you so much ! And you'll bear in mind that 
 Italian governess, won't you ? Signora Lisetto, 
 or Stiletto, or something like that — however, 
 all particulars can be had on application to me.
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 89 
 
 Good-bye — so glad to have met you!— Good- 
 bye, Mr. Heriot.' 
 
 And now there was only time to repeat the 
 same melancholy word to Miss Irvine, and to 
 catch her last smile and nod before the train 
 began to move. Vidal stood looking after it 
 with mournful eyes, and murmuring to himself, 
 ' Sije VOUS le disais, pourtant, que je vous aime, 
 qui sait, brune aux yeux bleus, ce que vous en 
 diriez f ' 
 
 He was roused by Heriot's voice, which 
 sounded a little harshly, saying, ' Come and sit 
 down somewhere in the shade, Adrian ; I want 
 to talk to you.' 
 
 ' You say that as if you intended to give me 
 a tremendous rowing,' remarked Vidal, as he 
 took his friend's arm. ' Have I been misbe- 
 having myself? ' 
 
 ' Ah, that is just what I don't know,' 
 answered Heriot ; * and that is what I want 
 vou to tell me.'
 
 90 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 But as Yidal only laughed, without reply- 
 ing, the other said no more until they had 
 passed out of the station and had found an un- 
 occupied bench near the lake, when he resumed 
 abruptly, ' Well, how far has it gone ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean.' 
 
 ' Oh, pardon me, my dear fellow, I think 
 you do know. You and I understand one 
 another pretty well at this time of day, and I 
 am not going to make any apologies for my 
 impertinence.' 
 
 ' Certainly not. But all the same, I donH 
 know what you mean. In one sense — so far 
 as I am concerned, that is — it has gone very 
 far indeed ; about as far as it could go. I 
 don't mind telling you that ; and, in fact, I 
 should have told you, whether you had asked 
 me or not. In another sense, it hasn't gone 
 on at all ; it hasn't begun.' 
 
 Heriot stroked his beard and sighed. ' I
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 91 
 
 hope you won't go down to Cornwall,' he said 
 presently. 
 
 ' Why not ? Can you give me any good 
 reason why I shouldn't ? I don't understand 
 you. Look here, Heriot — you won't mind my 
 asking, will you ? Have you any — any feehng 
 for her yourself ? ' 
 
 ' I have such a feeling for her as a middle- 
 aged man, who is dying of angina pectoris, may 
 have for a beautiful girl upon the threshold of 
 life,' answered Heriot quietly ; ' and you must 
 remember that it was I who took the responsi- 
 bility of introducing you to her. As for giving 
 you good reasons for letting a flirtation of three 
 days drop now ' 
 
 ' It has not been a flirtation,' interrupted 
 the younger man eagerly. ' Believe me or 
 not as you like, she is the only woman whom 
 I have ever loved, and whether I have known 
 her three days or three years is nothing to the 
 purpose/
 
 92 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Well, well. But I can give you the 
 good reasons, nevertheless. To begin with — 
 and, for the matter of that, I suppose we might 
 end with it too ; for it's painfully conclusive — 
 you are not well enough off to marry.' 
 
 ' I have six hundred a year.' 
 
 ' That is what I say. You have six hundred 
 a year, and stinginess has never been one of 
 your defects. You know very well that it is 
 all you can do to live upon your income as a 
 bachelor. To bring up a family upon it would 
 be so wildly impossible that I can't believe you 
 have seriously contemplated such a thing.' 
 
 It struck Yidal that this was taking time by 
 the forelock with a vengeance. ' I confess that 
 I haven't given much thought to the family, 
 he answered, with a slight laugh ; ' but as for 
 my income, I hope it won't remain stationary 
 I have added to it a little already from time to 
 time, and I mean to add to it in a more syste 
 matic way now, if I can.'
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 93 
 
 ' By writing ? ' 
 
 'Why not? Men have made money by 
 writing before now.' 
 
 ' How many men ? — and how much money? 
 You know, I am not altogether ignorant of 
 literary matters ; I have written a little myself 
 at odd times.' 
 
 ' But not novels.' 
 
 ' Not novels, certainly ; still I know some- 
 thing of the experiences of novelists. It isn't 
 altogether a question of merit ; so I may say, 
 without casting any reflection upon you, that 
 the chances are very much against your ever 
 making a living at that trade.' 
 
 ' Yet you recommended it.' 
 
 ' As being preferable to none ; I know I 
 did. I was sure that you could write what I 
 should consider a good novel ; but I can't 
 answer for the opinion of the public, which 
 pays. All I wish to point out is that the pros-
 
 94 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 pect is an uncertain one; and you yourself 
 will admit that much.' 
 
 'I admit that all beginners must be un- 
 certain of success. But, Heriot, doesn't it occur 
 to you that you are taking a great deal too 
 much for granted? You talk as if winning 
 Miss Irvine's love would be the easiest thing in 
 the world — as if I had only to throw the hand- 
 kerchief. It seems to me that you are as far 
 from understanding her as you are from realising 
 that poverty is only a relative evil.' 
 
 ' I venture to look upon poverty as a positive 
 evil,' said Heriot. ' As for Clare Irvine — weU, 
 since we are alone, I will speak plainly and 
 without regard for your blushes. You are 
 very good-looking, my dear Adrian, and you 
 are also clever and amiable ; so that a young 
 woman who should fall in love with you could 
 hardly be accused of bad taste. I don't think 
 it is taking too much for granted to assume 
 that this particular young woman is liable to
 
 '5/ JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 95 
 
 be attracted by what attracts others, and that 
 is why I say that you are bound to consider 
 consequences. The thing isn't done yet ; just 
 stop and think a Httle before you do it. And 
 there's something more that I should hke to 
 say to you. I heard yesterday from Mrs. 
 Irvine that Clare has it open to her to make an 
 excellent marriage. It seems that in the course 
 of their wanderings they fell in with a man 
 named Wilbraham, whom I know a httle, and 
 who is a thoroughly good fellow in every way. 
 He has the advantage of being rich and well 
 connected, and I suppose no parents can be 
 indifferent to such things. He proposed to 
 Clare when they were at Eome, and although 
 she began by refusing him, she afterwards 
 seemed disposed to change her mind ; and the 
 long and the short of it is that he hasn't yet 
 received his final answer.' 
 
 'Oh, is that it.?' said Yidal. 'Now I 
 understand.'
 
 96 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 He was thinking of what the girl had said 
 to him the day before, and he shuddered at 
 the idea that she was in danger of throwing 
 away her hfe, to please a mother whom, in his 
 haste, he set down as greedy and scheming. 
 
 Heriot, who could not follow his thoughts, 
 went on : 
 
 ' You understand the nature of the case 
 now. She is just upon the point of accepting 
 a man who will make the kindest and best of 
 husbands, when, lo and behold ! down drops a 
 good-looking pauper from the clouds and sets 
 to work to unsettle her mind. Don't you 
 think the good-looking pauper would do well 
 to betake himself to Jericho ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say I might think so if I were her 
 father,' answered Vidal ; ' but I am not her 
 father — nor are you. Would you hke to see 
 her marry a man whom she doesn't love, 
 because he is rich and may help her brothers
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 97 
 
 on in the world ? For I take it that that is 
 the Enghsh of the matter.' 
 
 ' No,' answered Heriot, ' I shouldn't hke 
 that, and I doubt very much whether she 
 would do it either. What I should hke her to 
 do would be to love the man. She certainly 
 can't be very far off loving him, or she wouldn't 
 hesitate.' 
 
 ' I don't see that at all ; but if it is as yoa 
 say, she will have ceased to hesitate before I 
 can meet her again. So that I am powerless 
 to do her any harm — or good. If only I had 
 known yesterday as much as I know now ! ' 
 
 ' What would you have done ? ' 
 
 ' I should have told her that I loved her. 
 She would have refused me, without any 
 doubt ; but it is just possible that my speaking 
 might, as you say, have " unsettled her mind ; " 
 and that would have been something.' 
 
 Heriot clasped his hands behind his head, 
 stared up at the sky, and whistled a tune. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Why do you do that ? ' asked Vidal 
 irritably. 
 
 ' To keep myself from being so rude as to 
 say what I think of you.' 
 
 Vidal laughed. ' Now, Heriot, that's hum- 
 bug. The sort of generosity which you ask of 
 me would be no generosity at all. It is quite 
 comprehensible that you shouldn't wish me to 
 marry Miss Irvine ' 
 
 ' I don't see how you can marry her.' 
 
 ' Well, let us put things at the worst, and 
 say that I can't. Then, according to you, I 
 ought to stand aside and allow some other man 
 to make her happy. I don't know whether I 
 should be capable of such magnanimity if the 
 case were to arise — I hope I should. But the 
 case has not arisen ; because I happen to know 
 that this man Wilbraham cannot make her 
 happy.' 
 
 ' How do you know anything about it ? ' 
 
 'From a few words that she let fall
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 99 
 
 yesterday. I didn't understand her at the 
 time, but I do now ; and I tell you that if she 
 gives way, it will be simply and solely because 
 that infernal old mother of hers has persuaded 
 her that it is her duty to sacrifice herself for 
 her family.' 
 
 The yoimg man started to his feet as he 
 spoke, strode away for a few yards, then came 
 back and threw himself violently down upon 
 the bench again. ' I wish to Heaven you 
 hadn't told me of this, now that it is too late ! ' 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 Heriot smiled. The truth was, that he had 
 seen his friend in love before, and was not 
 greatly moved by this display of agitation. 
 'You are quite mistaken,' he said quietly. 
 ' Poor Mrs. Irvine doesn't deserve abuse. Like 
 other mothers, she would be very much 
 pleased if her daughter made a brilliant 
 match ; but she is not worldly or grasping, and 
 Clare is as free to choose for herself as any girl 
 
 h2
 
 loo ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 can be. Hitherto she has not been embar- 
 rassed by a large field of choice. She has 
 lived all her life down in the country, and this 
 season at Eome has given her her first sight 
 of the outer v^orld. I wish she could have 
 fancied Wilbraham ; but, from what you say, I 
 fear there is very little chance for him. It is a 
 pity.' 
 
 ' Do you really think that ? ' asked Vidal 
 eagerly. ' Do you think she will refuse 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think she would have spoken to 
 you upon the subject if she had meant to 
 accept him. But, setting him aside, I do wish, 
 Adrian, both for your sake and for hers, that 
 you would try to get over this fancy. You 
 and she are not suited to one another ; but I 
 won't dwell on that point, because, of course, 
 you wouldn't believe me. You will acknow- 
 ledge, though, that, from a common-sense 
 point of view, it would be a great deal better
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' loi 
 
 if you were not to meet again. You have no 
 business to make love to her unless you see 
 some prospect of being able to marry her ; and 
 you can't ask her to starve with you upon six 
 hundred a year. Dive into the mountains and 
 write novels, and forget that there is such a 
 person as Clare Irvine.' 
 
 ' I fully intend to dive into the mountains 
 and work like a nigger,' answered Vidal, who 
 had recovered his good humour ; ' but as for 
 forgetting her, that is what I shall never do to 
 the last day of my life.' 
 
 Heriot, who had more faith in his friend's 
 powers of obhvion than he thought it prudent 
 to express, made no reply, and the subject was 
 allowed to drop. 
 
 On the following day Vidal carried his 
 hopes and anxieties up to Engelberg, there to 
 labour and meditate until the wished-for time 
 of his return to England should come. The 
 repose and silence of that high-lying region,
 
 I02 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 then just awakening out of its long winter's 
 sleep, did him but httle good ; and, although 
 he conscientiously worked a certain number of 
 hours every day, there always remained a 
 certain balance of time upon his hands, during 
 which the want of companionship weighed 
 heavily upon him. If anything could have 
 intensified his love for Clare Irvine, it would 
 have been the knowledge that he had a rival. 
 During his rambles over rocky heights and 
 slopes, where thousands of wild flowers were 
 springing up between the patches of half- 
 melted snow, he thought of her and of her 
 only ; he pictured her to himself yielding to 
 the solicitations of inconsiderate parents and of 
 a too unselfish nature ; he was consumed with 
 a feverish longing to hurry home after her, and 
 hear the worst. 
 
 Nevertheless, he stuck to his resolution, 
 and remained where he was, taking no small 
 credit to himself for his strength of purpose in
 
 '5/ JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 103 
 
 SO doing. For, indeed, he believed himself to 
 be somewhat remarkable for strength of pur- 
 pose. He had been quite sincere, and had 
 imagined that he was speaking from experi- 
 ence, when he laid down the proposition that a 
 man has only himself to blame if he does not 
 obtain the object of his desires. He had 
 pretty generally got what he had wanted, and 
 had not looked as closely as he might have 
 done into the causes which had led to that 
 happy result. As a fact, moral strength did 
 not happen to be his most striking quahty. 
 Sanguine, easily elated, and easily depressed, 
 he stood in constant need of sympathy, and 
 was not one who could bear many failures or 
 hold out for an indefinite time against diffi- 
 culties. Yet (as Heriot had long ago found 
 out) he was capable of distinguishing himself 
 far above his fellows. Granted a first success, 
 he might make himself heard of in the world. 
 The few steps which he had already taken on
 
 I04 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 the road towards fame had been tolerably long 
 steps for a beginner. His essays, contributed 
 to various reviews and magazines, and dealing 
 chiefly with such aspects of modern life as lie 
 upon the surface, had attracted a good deal of 
 notice. They had been bright, clever, excel- 
 lently worded, and had conveyed the idea that 
 their writer possessed a wider and more 
 profound acquaintance with his subjects than 
 was actually the case. Now he had written a 
 novel, to which he had given the name of 
 'Satiety,' and in which he had satirised what 
 he, oddly enough, fancied to be the prevailing 
 characteristic of his generation. Of this work 
 he secretly — perhaps unconsciously — expected 
 great things. He had spoken, and even 
 thought, disparagingly of it ; but he hardly 
 anticipated a disparaging verdict from the press 
 or the public. And if it should prove — as 
 why should it not? — to be the passport to 
 that Tom Tiddler's ground in which successful
 
 'SI JE VOUS LE DISAIS' 105 
 
 novelists are popularly supposed to disport 
 themselves, might not marriage be among the 
 good things which it would bring within the 
 reach of its talented author ? 
 
 As he walked among those lonely heights 
 his love grew stronger and deeper. Hitherto 
 he had lacked an object in hfe ; now he had 
 found one. In Clare he recognised at once his 
 inspiration and his reward. Upon more mature 
 reflection he had admitted to himself the 
 justice of much that Heriot had urged ; but he 
 resolved that, whether he might find it his 
 duty to avoid Miss Irvine for a time or not, he 
 would approach her as soon as he had the 
 right to do so, and that for that end he would 
 labour and live. The only deplorable part of 
 the business was that it should be comphcated 
 with a Wilbraham.
 
 io6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT. 
 
 One fine hot morning in the beginning of July 
 Mr. Heriot left his house and walked slowly- 
 down Brook Street, carrying his stick under his 
 arm and stooping slightly, as his habit was. 
 The fashionable world was hardly out of bed 
 yet, for the clocks had only just struck ten ; but 
 many of Heriot's acquaintances were already up 
 and abroad, and he had not proceeded far on 
 his way before he was accosted by some of these. 
 A curate, hurrying along with shuffling eccle- 
 siastical gait, caught sight of him and crossed 
 the road, exclaiming, ' You're the very man I 
 wanted to meet ! ' After which there was a brief 
 colloquy, and Heriot's finger and thumb went
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 107 
 
 into his waistcoat pocket, and a transfer of coin 
 took place. In Bond Street, further on, some 
 of the tradespeople, who were standing in their 
 doorways, wished him good morning, and 
 hoped he was keeping pretty well this beautiful 
 weather. For London is not quite the un- 
 neighbourly city that it is often represented as 
 being, and those who spend a little money and 
 take a little interest in the parishes wherein 
 they dwell soon discover that the metropolis is 
 rather a collection of small towns than one 
 immense one. Heriot had plenty of money, 
 which he distributed freely and unostenta- 
 tiously among those who had none ; so that his 
 kindly, ugly face was tolerably well known in 
 the streets which lay between his house and his 
 club. 
 
 ' Mornin', sir. Ain't seen you this three 
 weeks,' said the crossing-sweeper in Piccadilly. 
 ' Bin porely agin, sir ? ' 
 
 But Heriot, as he produced the expected
 
 io8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 sixpence, said ' No,' he had only been down in 
 the country ; and so passed on to Duke Street, 
 where he was informed that Mr. Yidal was at 
 home and at breakfast. 
 
 Vidal greeted his friend with even more 
 warmth than usual. ' My dear old chap, how 
 dehghted I am to see you ! What the deuce 
 do you mean by going out of town the very 
 day that I return F Sit down, and they'll 
 bring you some hot coffee in a minute.' 
 
 ' Thanks, I have breakfasted,' answered 
 Heriot ; ' but I'll smoke a cigarette with you 
 if you'll allow me. Well, and what is your 
 news ? ' 
 
 Vidal made a gesture of profound discou- 
 ragement. ' My news ! Why, you must know 
 already what my news is likely to be. I sup- 
 pose you have seen the papers ? ' 
 
 ' I have been staying in a house where they 
 don't take in many papers,' answered Heriot, 
 conscious of an unflattering ignorance upon a
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 109 
 
 subject which ought to have engrossed him 
 more deeply ; ' but I saw some very favourable 
 notices of your book before I left London/ 
 
 ' Oh, some of them were civil enough ; 
 some of them always are, I take it. But 
 the people whose praise is worth having 
 won't hear of me at any price. They've found 
 me out, my dear fellow, they've discovered the 
 nakedness of the land, as I knew they would. 
 Just look at that ! ' 
 
 And he tossed a copy of the Monday 
 Review across the table to Heriot, who began 
 to read aloud the article to which his attention 
 was directed. 
 
 ' It is not as often as we could wish that 
 we are able to congratulate the writers of 
 novels upon having selected a thoroughly 
 appropriate title for their works, and we are 
 the more ready to accord this praise to the 
 author of " Satiety," since it is very nearly the 
 only word of praise that we have it in our power
 
 no ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 to bestow upon him. If ever three volumes 
 were calculated to produce upon the mind of 
 the reader that sensation of which the heading 
 of each page appears to be intended as a dismal 
 
 warmng- 
 
 At this point Heriot thought he wouldn't 
 read aloud any more, and finished the article 
 in silence ; while Yidal, who had thrown him- 
 self into an arm-chair, smoked and stared up 
 at the ceiling. 
 
 After a longish pause the younger man 
 said, ' There are lots of others there at your 
 elbow. You had better look through them, 
 and then tell me honestly whether you still 
 think I have a chance of doing any good at 
 this trade.' 
 
 Heriot obeyed, and, after perusing a dozen 
 or so of critiques, long and short, exclaimed, 
 ' Why, my dear boy, nearly all of them are 
 complimentary, and some are positively ful- 
 some. Here's the Society Newsman says '
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT in 
 
 ' I don't care two straws what the Society 
 Newsman says,' interrupted Yidal ; ' and it 
 doesn't give me the smallest satisfaction to be 
 praised for qualities which I don't possess.' 
 
 ' The Discriminator^ then — since you won't 
 be contented with anything less than a high- 
 class journal — the Discriminator pats you on 
 the back in the most friendly way, and thinks 
 that " this is in many respects the most remark- 
 able novel of the year. . . . The characters 
 are not only drawn with rare skill — that of 
 Lady Tatter ville, the selfish and cynical old 
 woman of the world, would have done no dis- 
 credit to Thackeray — but behave themselves 
 under all circumstances as such characters would 
 behave themselves in real life. Mr. Vidal knows 
 what he is writing about, and gives us a sketch 
 of modern society, m certain of its develop- 
 ments, which we must admit to be substantially 
 accurate ; although we may doubt whether he 
 is justi fieri in his conclusion that the men and
 
 112 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 women of our day are less capable of being 
 roused to enthusiasm than their predecessors. 
 We wonder, for instance, what he would say to 
 the crowds of fashionable ladies who thronged 
 to hear Messrs. Moody and Sankey not many 
 years ago, or to the considerable number of men 
 who brave ridicule at the present time by wear- 
 ing a scrap of blue ribbon in their button-holes. 
 We should like Mr. Yidal to think out these 
 and similar manifestations before he writes his 
 next novel. . . . The story upon which he 
 hangs his brilhant digressions is, it is true, of 
 the slenderest kind, and seems to us to be want- 
 ing in movement throughout ; but " ' 
 
 ' Ah, there it is, you see,' interpolated 
 Yidal. 
 
 ' Well, but he goes on to say that, if the 
 story lacks this, it has abundance of that and 
 t'other, and winds up by prophesying that you 
 will leave your mark upon the literature of the 
 era. Isn't that good enouqh for you ? '
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 113 
 
 ^ I must say,' remarked Vidal, after smoking 
 for some minutes in silence, 'that T like the 
 Discriminator. I think it's honest, you know. 
 One may not always agree with its views ; but 
 one feels that it is written by men who are 
 doing their best to be fair, and who don't scamp 
 their work. When they review a novel they 
 read it, and read it carefully too — which is 
 more than can be said for some of their con- 
 temporaries.' 
 
 ' It is, no doubt, an excellent paper,' agreed 
 Heriot, without the shadow of a smile. ' The 
 Monday Review has also its merits ; but it is 
 too superficial, and it laboiu"s under the disad- 
 vantage of being somewhat celebrated for its 
 smart writing. Imagine the position of an 
 unlucky paper which has to keep up that reputa- 
 tion when opportunities for smartness are so 
 often wanting. I think you ought to be more 
 sorry for the poor Monday Reviewer than angry 
 wnth him. What could be more pathetic than 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 this ? "If Satiety ' were as preposterous in plot, 
 as silly in dialogue, or as ungrammatical in style 
 as many of the novels which our duty compels 
 us to peruse, we could feel relatively grateful to 
 Mr. Vidal, since it is just possible that our 
 labours might then have been lightened by an 
 occasional laugh. But it is none of these things. 
 It is only dull ; only vapid ; only wanting in 
 every single quality that goes to make a read- 
 able novel." Can't you see the wretched man 
 rubbing his head in despair ? " Hang it all ! I 
 must be smart ; I must maintain the character 
 of the paper ; I must amuse the pubhc ; and 
 here's this pestilent fellow won't give one half a 
 chance ! No words used out of their proper 
 sense — no confused metaphors — no pea-green 
 sunsets — no nothing ! " And then he very 
 naturally tiurns upon you in his exasperation, 
 and declares that "it is not too much to say 
 that in the course of a very long experience of 
 novels we have come across none so uninterrupt-
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 115 
 
 edly tedious as ' Satiety.'" " A very long ex- 
 perience, too," poor fellow ! Don't you see that 
 if he has been doing nothing but review novels 
 all his life, he can't be capable of any very 
 ambitious literary work ? And why should 
 you allow yourself to be cast down because a 
 man of such low intellectual calibre fails to 
 appreciate you ? ' 
 
 ' I am quite well aware that you are laugh- 
 ing at me, Heriot,' said Yidal ; ' but there is 
 some truth in what you say, for all that. The 
 unfortunate part of it is that critics influence 
 the public — at least, I suppose they do. I 
 wish you would tell me what you yourself 
 thought of the book.' 
 
 Heriot hesitated for a moment. ' I read it 
 with a great deal of pleasure,' he said at 
 length ; ' but I can't honestly say that it struck 
 me as being a good novel. You know as well 
 as I do what its defects are ; and I should say 
 that you could very easily avoid them next 
 
 1 2
 
 ii6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 time. If I were you, I wouldn't be above 
 learning by experience ; and I tliink I should 
 be very well satisfied with such success as the 
 book has had.' 
 
 ' It has had no success,' answered Vidal 
 gloomily. ' It doesn't sell.' 
 
 ' H'm ! That is a good deal worse than 
 adverse criticism.' 
 
 ' Well, yes, I am afraid it is. I hoped to 
 make a living by my pen ; but now — I don't 
 know. Do you think I have it in me, Heriot?' 
 
 Heriot looked distressed. ' I think you 
 have it in you to write a much better novel 
 than " Satiety," ' he answered. ' More than that 
 I can't venture to say. I can only repeat what 
 I told you at Lucerne.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes ! ' sighed the young man. ' Some- 
 times I wish I had never gone to Lucerne ; and 
 
 yet Come, Heriot, put me out of my pain, 
 
 and let us get it over. You know what I have 
 been dying to ask you all this time.'
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 117 
 
 ' I hoped you had got over that,' Heriot 
 said. 
 
 ' Well, I haven't got over it. I shall never 
 get over it,' returned the other impatiently. 
 ' For Heaven's sake, speak out, man. She has 
 accepted him, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' No ; she has refused him, I am sorry to 
 say. But, my dear Adrian, what difference 
 does that make ? ' 
 
 Vidal's reply was to start out of the arm- 
 chair in which he had been reclining, and to 
 fling Heriot's hat up to the ceiling — his own 
 not being available. 
 
 ' Difference ! ' he exclaimed. ' The differ- 
 ence between life and death, that's all! So 
 long as I have something to live for, and ever 
 so small a particle of hope to cling to, I can 
 work and do my best. I don't think I could 
 have begun all over again and changed my 
 style of writing, only to get a httle praise from
 
 ii8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 the Monday Review. So she refused him, eh ? 
 Did she give any reason ? ' 
 
 'Eeally I don't know,' answered Heriot, 
 with a vexed laugh. ' I presume she did, but 
 I don't think it hkely that she named your 
 existence as the reason. All that I have heard 
 about it was in a letter from Mrs. L^vine, who is 
 already resigned to the loss of Wilbraham, and 
 feels confident that somebody equally ehgible 
 will turn up. You are not equally ehgible, 
 and I do hope and trust that you will have the 
 decency to refrain from turning up.' 
 
 The young man was silent for a minute or 
 two, and then said with sudden vehemence, 
 ' Heriot, I want to see her ! ' 
 
 ' I dare say you do ; but it is your duty to 
 put a curb upon your desires. At least, don't 
 go down to Polruth this summer. In another 
 twelvemonth you will probably know some- 
 thing more definite as to your future income.' 
 
 ' And in the meantime ? '
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 119 
 
 * In the meantime there is of course the 
 chance of her marrying somebody else. It 
 seems to me that you will have to risk that.' 
 
 ' Well — I'll try,' said Yidal, with something 
 of an eJSbrt. ' I won't make any promise, 
 because I might not be able to keep it ; but I 
 admit that I should have no right to propose 
 to her now ; and so, no doubt, the most 
 prudent course is to avoid her. You are 
 horridly unsympathetic, do you know, Heriot.' 
 
 • No ; only I have a difficulty in believing 
 that a man can lose his heart irrecoverably in 
 these days. However, you shall have all my 
 sympathy so long as you continue to exercise a 
 little self-denial.' 
 
 ' It isn't a little ; it's a very great deal. 
 You must write to me, when you are down 
 there, and tell me all about her — everything^ 
 mind, whether you think I shall like it or not.' 
 
 Yidal's buoyant spirits began to rise as 
 soon as he was alone. A great weight had
 
 120 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 been lifted off his mind by the news of Mr. 
 Wilbraham's final rejection, and the failure of 
 his book no longer seemed to him an irretriev- 
 able calamity. Eemembering how many 
 famous authors have had to force their way 
 through preliminary neglect and ridicule, he 
 felt a little ashamed of his faint-heartedness. 
 After all, as Heriot had said, it would be easy 
 — possible, at all events — to correct in a second 
 work the mistakes which had proved fatal to 
 the first. The essential thing was to find out 
 what the pubhc really liked ; a point upon 
 which he had hitherto hardly bestowed enough 
 attention, perhaps. 
 
 That same evening he happened to be at a 
 large dinner party in company with a joiurnalist 
 of repute and a popular novelist. To them he 
 determined to address himself for the required 
 information, and after the ladies had left the 
 dining-room he sat down beside the journalist, 
 and put the question to him point-blank.
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 121 
 
 ' What do you think that the novel-reading 
 public really likes ? ' 
 
 The journalist, who was a big, burly man, 
 with blunt manners, replied, ' That's rather a 
 puzzler. Incident — humour — pathos — deve- 
 lopment of character — I can't say exactly. 
 What's one man's meat is another man's 
 poison, you know. But I can tell you what 
 nobody likes, and that's being preached at. 
 Take my advice, Mr. Vidal, and leave sermons 
 to the parsons, whose business it is to produce 
 them. What you want to do is to amuse 
 people, and you'll never do that by tying a 
 string of essays together and calling it a novel.' 
 
 ' I dare say you are quite right,' said Vidal 
 meekly ; ' but I didn't so much want to be told 
 what to avoid as what to seek.' 
 
 ' Well, if you ask me, I should recommend 
 you to write a sensation novel. In fashion or 
 out of fashion, they always pay and always go 
 down with the public. Give it 'em hot and
 
 122 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 strong, Mr. Viclal — battle, murder, and sudden 
 death — and see if they don't swallow it as I 
 swallow this glass of claret. Devilish good 
 claret it is, too ! ' 
 
 Apparently this was not a person of refined 
 taste. Yidal now betook himself to the author, 
 who at once began to talk to him about 
 ^ Satiety,' and was exceedingly polite and en- 
 couraging, as men who have reached the top of 
 the hill commonly are to those who are still 
 strugghng up the ascent. On being inquired 
 of as to what the novel-reading public really 
 hked, he answered confidentially, ' Well, be- 
 tween you and me, the novel-reading public 
 means the women. If we don't succeed in 
 pleasing them, we are nowhere.' 
 
 ' And what do they like ? ' Vidal pursued. 
 
 'Ask them,' replied the other, with a laugh, 
 and turned away to speak to someone else. 
 
 Vidal thought he might do worse than act 
 upon this hint. In the drawing-room he
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 123 
 
 approached his hostess, a hvely httle old lady 
 who had once been a beauty, and begged her 
 to tell him who was her favourite novehst. 
 Without any hesitation she named the one 
 who was present, thereby surprising her ques- 
 tioner a little. 
 
 ' I admire his writing immensely,' said the 
 latter. ' His descriptions of scenery are in- 
 imitable, and he is never tedious ; but ' 
 
 ' Ml,' interrupted the old lady, ' that isn't 
 what I mean. His books charm me because 
 there is so much love -makings in them. There 
 is nothing so delightful to read about as love- 
 making — of coiu^se I mean the English variety, 
 not the French. Love is the one subject that 
 interests us all. Some of us like to read about 
 it because we know nothino- of it at first hand ; 
 others because it brings back to us the happiest 
 days of our lives. If any woman is bored by 
 love scenes, so much the worse for her ! '
 
 124 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' But there is some love-making in all 
 novels,' objected Yidal. 
 
 ' I prefer tlie novels in which there is very 
 little else,' said the old lady. 
 
 The next person to whom the inquirer apphed 
 was a young married woman. Her reply to 
 his first question was identical with that of her 
 senior ; but she was rather more concise and 
 explicit in her reasons. ' He understands us,' 
 she said, 'he knows how we feel. Most of you 
 don't.' 
 
 After this, Vidal met with various responses, 
 none of which helped him very much towards 
 a conclusion. One lady, rather maliciously, 
 gave her verdict in favour of Mr. So-and-so, 
 ' because his novels are always in such nice 
 big print ; ' another declared for a wTiter of her 
 own sex, ' because she is so dehghtfully im- 
 proper ; ' not one of them had the presence of 
 mind to answer boldly ' You.' But perhaps
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 125 
 
 that was partly because not one of them had 
 been able to read his book. 
 
 When Vidal went away, he betook himself 
 to the smoking-room of his club, and sitting 
 down in a corner, tried to sift something ser- 
 viceable out of the mass of advice and informa- 
 tion which he had received during the day. 
 The effort was not attended with much more 
 success than such efforts generally meet with ; 
 for though teachableness is an excellent quality, 
 it can do but little for its possessor in the ab- 
 sence of adequate teachers, and no one had 
 taken the trouble to point out to Vidal exactly 
 in what way he was to set about improving his 
 style. The whole, when summed up, . seemed 
 to mean that, if he wanted his books to sell, he 
 must give them a little more of human interest ; 
 which, to be sure, he might have discovered 
 without consulting such a number of persons. 
 However, he had unconsciously made one 
 valuable acquisition, in the shape of a con-
 
 126 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 siderable increase of humility ; so that his in- 
 vestigations had not been quite so fruitless as 
 he supposed. 
 
 That month of July remained long memor- 
 able to Vidal as having brought him the first 
 persistent attack of low spirits with which he 
 had been afllicted in his hfe. He employed the 
 customary remedies in vain. Of balls, dinners, 
 and other entertainments he had as many as he 
 could desire ; for if he had not succeeded in 
 earning popularity as a writer, he had long 
 since achieved it as an individual ; but the 
 relaxations of society only left him dull, dis- 
 satisfied, and weary of life. These alarming 
 symptoms he natm-ally set down to grief at his 
 separation from Clare Irvine ; but what he was 
 in reality sufiering from was a loss of self- 
 confidence. He was no longer able to write 
 with ease ; he was hampered by a constant 
 dread of boring his readers, and he would have 
 given up writing altogether for a time, had he
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 127 
 
 not felt that time was of so much importance. 
 Once he went down to Brighton for a few days 
 on a dutiful visit to his mother, who Hved 
 there, and returned more depressed than ever. 
 
 Mrs. Vidal, a well-preserved widow, whose 
 tastes were more expensive than her means 
 were large, had a standing grievance against 
 her two children in that they had been left 
 independent of her, and had thus deprived her 
 of an income to which she considered herself to 
 be entitled. Her son had never hved with her 
 since he had attained his majority, and her 
 daughter was in the habit of seeking solace for 
 an adventurous spirit in distant travel ; so that 
 she would perhaps have had some right to 
 esteem herself neglected by them, had she not, 
 as a fact, found her own society and that of 
 her friends in Brighton a great deal more con- 
 genial than theirs. Adrian, who was of an 
 affectionate nature, had been repelled in his 
 earliest boyhood by her icy coldness, and now
 
 128 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 always treated her with the distant courtesy 
 which she preferred. 
 
 'People tell me that you have written a 
 clever novel,' she said on the afternoon of his 
 arrival. ' I seldom read novels, but I have 
 made a point of ordering yours from the library. 
 Have you made much money by it ? ' 
 
 ' Not very much,' Adrian confessed. 
 
 ' No ; I should not think that you would 
 ever earn much money at anything,' his mother 
 observed dispassionately. ' And yet you must 
 be in need of money, I suppose. If I were in 
 your place, I should think seriously of making 
 a good marriage. No doubt you meet many 
 rich people in London — City people, perhaps, 
 with daughters. It is a pity not to take advan- 
 tage of opportunities when they present them- 
 selves.' 
 
 ' I don't think I should care about going in 
 for that sort of thins:,' said Adrian, in a tone
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 129 
 
 which implied that he did not wish to discuss 
 the question further. 
 
 ' What sort of thing ? Marriage in general ? ' 
 
 ' No ; only marriage as a financial specula- 
 tion. Eather than come to that, I would ' 
 
 ' Marry somebody's lady's-maid?' suggested 
 Mrs. Yidal, who had never forgotten the unfor- 
 tunate episode in her son's past life which has 
 already been alluded to. ' Well, there is no 
 accounting for tastes, and you are not likely to 
 be influenced by mine. I only hope you may 
 find your literary earnings sufficient to support 
 you and your wife, when you decide upon 
 taking one — as of course you will do, one of 
 these days.' 
 
 It may have been accident or it may have 
 been the dawning of a suspicion that caused 
 Mrs. Yidal to recur more than once during 
 Adrian's visit to the topic of his possible mar- 
 riage. ' You will never be much better off 
 than you are now,' she said ; * for the Httle 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 that I have will be divided between you and 
 Georgina, and even that little may not come to 
 you for a considerable number of years. By 
 far your best plan would be to marry money 
 while you still have good looks and a certain 
 vague reputation for talent. Heiresses, I sup- 
 pose, expect some equivalent for their fortunes, 
 and perhaps it would hardly be wise to count 
 upon either of your special advantages increas- 
 ing with age.' 
 
 Such speeches as this did not tend to raise 
 poor Vidal's drooping spirits. His mother's 
 bland malignity would have affected him less at 
 any other time ; but just now it came upon 
 him like the proverbial last straw. Neither she 
 nor anyone else seemed to have the smallest 
 belief in his future ; and the worst of it was 
 that that future could never, in the nature of 
 things, be anything but uncertain. Even sup- 
 posing that his next novel should have the 
 good fortune to please the world, would that
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 131 
 
 bring him any nearer to the settled income 
 which fathers-in-law usually make a sine qua 
 non ? 
 
 He went back to London and allowed 
 despair to get the upper hand of him. By de- 
 grees he began to admit that Clare Irvine was 
 not for him ; for patient waiting was not among 
 his capacities. Yet, the more he became con- 
 vinced that his dream must be abandoned, the 
 more he longed to break his half-promise to 
 Heriot and run down to Polruth for a day or 
 two. He dalhed with this temptation until it 
 assumed a definite shape. It would be so easy 
 and so innocent to make Cornwall the scene of 
 his summer holiday! He would scrupulously 
 avoid hngering on the north coast ; but from 
 Falmouth or Penzance he might shp over to 
 Polruth, put up at the village inn, and let no- 
 body know that he was there. Only to see her 
 would be enough. And if he did call once, 
 utter a few commonplaces, and bid her a silent 
 
 K 2
 
 132 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 farewell, who could possibly be the worse for 
 it ? Heriot's objections were grounded upon a 
 supposition which only the most outrageous 
 vanity could accept, and Heriot himself could 
 hardly have the cruelty to forbid one brief 
 afternoon call. 
 
 And while he was thus educating his con- 
 science, a letter reached him which silenced 
 that troublesome inner voice in a most effectual 
 and satisfactory manner. The moment that 
 Vidal caught sight of the envelope on his 
 breakfast-table, and noted its hurriedly scrawled 
 address, he guessed who his correspondent must 
 be ; and when he tore it open and saw that it 
 was dated ' Cardrew, Polruth,' he invoked a 
 fervent blessing upon the head of Mrs. Irvine. 
 
 That impulsive lady wrote very much as 
 she spoke. 
 
 ' Dear Mr. Yidal, — I told you I would let 
 you know about Mrs. Treweeke's lodgings, and 
 vou see I have not forgotten, although I have
 
 A LITTLE DISCOURAGEMENT 133 
 
 been very busy ever since our return, so many 
 things requiring attention, and tlie boys being 
 all at home, which always keeps one in a state 
 of bustle, besides other matters which have 
 worried me a good deal ; but of course one 
 must expect worries in this world. 
 
 ' About Mrs. Treweeke. I was only wait- 
 ing until we got Mr. Heriot down here — and • 
 now he has been with us three days, and is 
 looking so much better that it is quite a plea- 
 sure — so I went at once to see her, and she says 
 she is sure she can make you comfortable. Two 
 sitting-rooms and bedroom, two guineas a week 
 — more than she ought to ask, I think; still 
 one must not be hard upon them, poor souls, 
 with such a short season, and all the trouble 
 that there has been about the fishing this year ; 
 and I am sorry I said that to you about the 
 wine, because I am certain she is as honest as 
 the day, and her feelings might be hurt, so 
 perhaps after all you had better not. 
 
 ' J^ow do, pray, think of it. We should all
 
 134 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 be SO very glad to see you again, and Mr. 
 Irvine wishes me particularly to say how sorry 
 he is that we have no spare room just now. 
 Most lovely scenery, and plenty of fishing and 
 lawn tennis ; and of course, if you stay long 
 enough, there will be the shooting. Please 
 excuse haste, and with our kindest regards, 
 ' Believe me, very sincerely yours, 
 
 'Elizabeth Irvine. 
 
 ' I forgot to say about that Itahan governess 
 — don't on any account recommend her. She 
 has turned out to be a most disreputable per- 
 son, and the ten pounds that I lent her I never 
 expect to see again. Such a mercy that no- 
 body had engaged her before I discovered the 
 truth ! ' 
 
 There was no holding out against that. 
 Vidal did not even attempt to do so, but de- 
 spatched a grateful reply to Mrs. Irvine, and 
 hurried off to buy a Bradshaw forthwith.
 
 135 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 CARDEEW. 
 
 Chance, whicli plays a considerable part in the 
 lives of most people, is responsible for aU the 
 works and ways of a few. Chance took Mr. 
 Irvine to Cornwall on his wedding trip, some 
 five-and-twenty years before the opening of the 
 present narrative ; chance led him to Polruth ; 
 the chance of his wife's having caught a cold 
 in her head kept him for two days in that 
 imfrequented fishing-hamlet ; and chance caused 
 him to walk up to the old grey house called 
 Cardrew, which stands just beneath the brow 
 of the hills above the village. Cardrew had 
 been many years for sale, and its appearance at 
 that time was hardly calculated to attract
 
 136 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 purchasers, its garden being an overgrown 
 wilderness, its windows for the most part 
 broken, and every fence and gate about it 
 rotting away from neglect and age. But Mr. 
 Irvine, who possessed a comfortable fortune 
 and no home, happened to have his pockets 
 stuffed full of house-agents' lists, and was 
 anticipating, with the misery of an undecided 
 man, a long period of house-hunting. Here 
 was a house to be sold — a solid, well-built, 
 roomy house, with a sufficiency of land about 
 it, a healthy position, and an admirable pros- 
 pect. What a deal of worry might be saved 
 by securing it and making it habitable ! He 
 consulted his wife, and had the happiness to 
 find that her views coincided with his own. 
 There was certainly no reason why they should 
 establish themselves in Cornwall, with which 
 county they had no family connection ; but, on 
 the other hand, there was no particular reason 
 why they should not. So the old place was
 
 CARDREW 137 
 
 bought for a mere song, and, the necessary re- 
 pairs having been completed, Mr. and j\i[rs. 
 Irvine took possession. 
 
 There they settled down and multiplied, as 
 the years went on, with satisfaction to them- 
 selves and to those who dwelt around them. 
 The neighbours, high and low^ — there were not 
 a great many of either class — soon became 
 attracted to this simple couple, and freely 
 forgave them for not having been born and 
 bred in the duchy. Mrs. Irvine, active, rest- 
 less, and profoundly interested in local affairs, 
 while keeping open her many hues of com- 
 munication with the outer world, was in more 
 ways than one a godsend to the parish. Her 
 blunders, it is true, were many and frequent, 
 but they were very seldom harmful ; and though 
 some people might occasionally find her a bore, 
 no one had ever been heard to accuse her of 
 selfishness or ill-nature. As for her husband, 
 he was liked, as most of us learn to like the
 
 138 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 inanimate objects upon which our eyes rest 
 every ^day. His long hair, his devious gait, 
 and somewhat vacant smile became familiar to 
 Polruth, and would, if they had disappeared, 
 have been missed almost as much as the yew 
 tree in the churchyard or Daniel Chenoweth's 
 old grey mare. In due time his appointment 
 as a magistrate added a touch of dignity to his 
 harmless, desultory existence ; but he was 
 seldom seen two miles away from home, except 
 when the news of an impending sale took him 
 up to London, whence he would return laden 
 with spoils in the shape of antiquities or addi- 
 tions to what was fast becoming one of the finest 
 numismatic collections in the west of England. 
 When six boys and a girl had to be fed, 
 clothed, and educated, the acquisition of these 
 ancient coins entailed a rather larger outlay of 
 modern ones than was quite convenient ; but 
 living at Polruth is very cheap, and although 
 the Irvines were sometimes obliged to consider
 
 CARDREW 139 
 
 expense, they could not be said to have ever 
 really felt the pinch of poverty. The boys 
 grew up into young men with that amazing 
 rapidity which is common to the human race, 
 but which is perhaps more noticeable in 
 quiet neighboiu-hoods than in cities. The girl, 
 as we have seen, developed into a singularly 
 beautiful young woman, and was not so 
 conscious of the fact as she might have been 
 if anyone or anything, except her looking-glass, 
 had informed her of it. 
 
 But she did not consult her glass more often 
 than was necessary for the purposes of the 
 toilet, and in the immediate vicinity of Polruth 
 there dwelt no young man of her own rank. 
 Her occupations, after she had been released 
 from the authority of her governess, were so 
 few that she would have found time hang 
 heavily on her hands had she not been^bred to 
 the enjoyment of still hfe. Her amusements 
 were for the most part such as her brothers
 
 I40 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 could join in ; and her knowledge of the world 
 was gleaned solely from what they told her, and 
 from books, of which she was an eager and 
 untrammelled devourer. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that Anglo-Eoman 
 society was astounded, one winter, by the 
 appearance in its midst of that rare pheno- 
 menon, a totally un-selfconscious beauty. 
 That she did not receive at least a dozen offers 
 during the three months which she spent with 
 her parents on the banks of the Tiber, was 
 probably due to the circumstance that she was 
 at once monopolised by Mr. Wilbraham ; to 
 which cause may also be assigned her willing- 
 ness to leave scenes which, to her inexperi- 
 enced eyes, far surpassed all that had ever 
 been said or written about them. For she did 
 not wish to marry this man. Nature was 
 beginning to awaken in her ; in a vague, 
 dreamy way slie realised the possibihties of life 
 and love, and felt within herself a oapacity for
 
 CARDREW 141 
 
 happiness siicli as she knew of only by hearsay. 
 Carriages, diamonds, and the other adjuncts of 
 wealth tempted her very Httle, nor did it occur 
 to her to desire the love of a man who could 
 give her these pleasant things. Yet Mr. Wil- 
 braham, viewed in the abstract, was very 
 desirable. He had large estates, he had 
 powerful connections, and he was more than 
 usually pleasing in person and manners. Such 
 a highly favoured individual is not to be 
 rejected without reasons, and reasons were 
 precisely what Clare could not give for reject- 
 ing him. When Mrs. Irvine, with some 
 natural impatience, asked her what she would 
 have, she could only reply that she didn't 
 know ; and when her suitor roundly declared 
 that he would not take ' No ' for an answer, she 
 thought of all that he could do for the boys, 
 and hesitated. Like many other young per- 
 sons, she was subject to fits of melancholy 
 which nothing in her circumstances warranted.
 
 142 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 It seemed to her that hers was a purposeless 
 life, and that if she could promote the happi- 
 ness of others by marrying a man whom she 
 really did not dislike, it would perhaps be 
 foolish, as well as selfish, to draw back because 
 of some undefined prospect which she feared to 
 lose. Wilbraham's arrival at Lucerne found 
 her still wavering ; but no sooner had she 
 reached home than she wrote him a refusal so 
 decisive that he made no further attempt to 
 move her. From this it might seem as though 
 the prospect above referred to had ceased to be 
 undefined ; but such was by no means Clare's 
 behef. She was a good deal ashamed of 
 herself, and felt that her eldest brother. Jack, 
 was not far wrong when he called her an 
 ' awful dufier ' for throwing such a chance 
 away. 
 
 ' Just think of the sport we might have 
 had ! ' he exclaimed regretfully. ' Do you 
 know that he has a deer forest and a three-
 
 CARDREW 143 
 
 hundred ton yacht, and that they made bigger 
 bags at his place in Norfolk last winter than on 
 any other estate in England ? It strikes me 
 that you are too ambitious, Clare. The last 
 member of the Eoyal Family is disposed of 
 now, you know ; and the supply of unmarried 
 dukes is lamentably deficient.' 
 
 The girl was really more hurt by this 
 good-humoured chaff than she cared to show. 
 Xo one treated her with unkindness ; but it was 
 clear enough that everyone thought her rather 
 silly, and she was conscious that she had been 
 to blame in taking so long a time to make up 
 her mind. Heriot's arrival was a comfort to 
 her. He and she had always been friends ; 
 she knew instinctively that he understood her, 
 and this knowledge was not the less soothing 
 because she had some difficulty in understand- 
 ing herself. Sometimes she was inclined to ask 
 him whether he thought she had done wrong ; 
 but now that the thing was over, and the
 
 144 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 decision irrevocable, there seemed to be little 
 use in talking about it ; so slie kept her 
 misgivings to herself, and carried them out to a 
 certain grassy headland overlooking Polruth 
 Bay, where she was wont to dream away some 
 part of the long summer days. 
 
 One afternoon in the beginning of August 
 she was sitting there upon the short, sweet- 
 smelling herbage, her hands clasped round her 
 knees, and her eyes fixed upon the golden 
 mists which obscured the horizon. Some three 
 or four hundred feet beneath her the Atlantic 
 rollers awoke the echoes of the caves ; on her 
 rio'ht hand Polruth, a jumble of slate roofs, and 
 steep, narrow streets, overtopped its diminutive 
 harbour, and to the right of that again a great 
 semi-circle of white sand swept away to the 
 promontory which formed the northern horn of 
 the bay. Clare did not heed this familiar 
 prospect, nor hear the shouts that arose from 
 the returning fishing-boats. For a long time
 
 CARDREW 145 
 
 she had remained without changing her atti- 
 tude, and from the intensity of her gaze it 
 might almost have seemed as though, hke 
 Sister Anne, she expected to see somebody 
 coming to her out of that mysterious haze 
 which bounded the world. 
 
 Somebody was indeed coming, though 
 from a less improbable direction. A young 
 man, who had just arrived from London, and 
 had taken up his quarters at Mrs. Treweeke's 
 lodgings, had strolled out to get a breath of 
 fresh air before dinner, and when this young 
 man recognised Miss Irvine, his heart leaped 
 up within him. What was he to do ? He had 
 come to Polruth with the firm intention of 
 keeping his secret, of speaking to her only 
 when other persons were present, and of 
 avoiding all risk of self-betrayal. Prudence, 
 therefore, counselled a swift and silent retreat, 
 and he actually did turn round and take as 
 many as six steps in the direction of the village 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 before he stopped to see whether prudence 
 might not be open to argument. What 
 happens under such circumstances we all 
 know. Prudence is always vanquished before 
 the argument begins, and in another minute 
 Clare heard a voice behind her saying, 'Miss 
 Irvine, how do you do ? ' 
 
 The voice had an odd tremor in it ; it said 
 a great deal more than the above meaningless 
 phrase — a great deal more than it had any 
 business to say. And when Clare scrambled 
 to her feet and turned round, she met a pair of 
 liquid grey eyes which spoke so plainly that 
 she somewhat hurriedly dropped her own 
 under their gaze. But it was without any 
 other sign of trouble than this that she held 
 out her hand, saying frankly, ' How do you 
 do, Mr. Vidal ? So you have really come to 
 Polruth, after all. I am so glad.' 
 
 ' You are very kind to say so,' murmured 
 Vidal. He was not accustomed to feel em-
 
 CARDREW 147 
 
 barrassed in the presence of man or woman, 
 and had perhaps never before in his life been 
 at a loss for words ; but now commonplaces 
 seemed to stick in his throat, and he could 
 only stand and look at her as she faced him 
 there, ^vith the sinking sun making a blaze of 
 sea and sky behind her, and turning her hair 
 into a nimbus. The moment had come, then ! 
 He had hardly known how intensely he had 
 longed for it ; he had not expected that it 
 would move him so deeply; he was really 
 afraid to open his hps, lest the thoughts that 
 were in him should escape through them 
 against his will. Oh miserable pettiness of an 
 artificial state of society, which held him tongue- 
 tied because, forsooth, his income was num- 
 bered in three figiures instead of four ! How 
 was it possible for mortal man, with all his 
 inner being in such a condition of ferment, to 
 begin talking about the weather and the un- 
 punctuality of the trains ? 
 
 12
 
 148 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Perhaps it was not possible. At all events, 
 Vidal continued speechless, and it was Miss 
 Irvine who expressed a hope that the heat had 
 not made his journey very disagreeable. ' We 
 have been having a most beautiful summer,' 
 she said, ' and everybody prophesies that it is 
 going to last. I hope it will ; because, if so, 
 you will see Polruth at its best, and perhaps, 
 as my brothers are at home, you won't find it 
 so overpoweringly dull. You know that Mr. 
 Heriot is here ? ' 
 
 Vidal said ' Yes,' and did not add that, all 
 things considered, he would have been just as 
 well pleased if Mr. Heriot had not been there. 
 They were walking back towards the village 
 by this time, and he was wondering whether 
 he would ever be alone with her again. Pro- 
 bably not. He could foresee what was coming. 
 With a host of noisy young men swarming 
 round him, and with Heriot for ever on the 
 watch, it was not likely that such moments
 
 CARDREW 149 
 
 as these would recur. Well, perhaps it was 
 best so. 
 
 ' Do you remember our walk on the Eigi : ' 
 he asked abruptly. 
 
 ' Oh yes ; how wet and disagreeable it 
 was ! You went on to some place in the 
 mountains afterwards, didn't you ? Have you 
 been long back in England ? ' 
 
 Wet and disagreeable ! — was that the only 
 memory that she had preserved of an afternoon 
 which he had so often hved through again in 
 his thoughts ? Vidal's heart sank ; he answered 
 her questions mechanically, and scarcely listened 
 to her while she enumerated the various diver- 
 sions by which the monotony of hfe at Polruth 
 might be relieved. What were lawn tennis, 
 and fishing for bass, and picnics to him ? Yet, 
 as they walked on, he could not but observe 
 that her manner had lost its accustomed calm, 
 that she was talking more and talking faster 
 than she had ever done at Lucerne, and that
 
 ISO ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 all the time she looked straight in front of her, 
 instead of turning sometimes towards her com- 
 panion, as it would have been more natural to 
 do. Now Vidal, though in love, had not so 
 far parted with his powers of induction as not 
 to know what this meant. His secret was 
 evidently a secret no longer. Whether the 
 discovery of it had been agreeable or disagree- 
 able to Miss Irvine he could not tell ; but he 
 saw that she had made the discovery, and that 
 it was agitating her. He did not offer to ac- 
 company her beyond the door of his lodgings, 
 and secretly hoped that she might understand 
 and appreciate this act of self-denial. Whether 
 she did so or not, she was unmistakably relieved 
 to be set free. 
 
 ' Papa or one of the boys will come down 
 and see you after breakfast to-morrow,' she 
 said ; ' and you must not expect to be allowed 
 much time for work while you are here.' 
 
 She paused and opened her lips, as if she
 
 CARD RE W 151 
 
 were going to add something, but seemed to 
 change lier mind, and only said ' Good-night,' 
 as she turned away. 
 
 Vidal watched her out of sight, then slowly 
 chmbed the stairs to his sitting-room. He 
 threw himself down upon the broad window- 
 seat, and, with his folded arms resting upon 
 the sill, looked out across the bay. He was 
 two-thirds remorseful and one-third glad that 
 he had broken down so deplorably at the very 
 outset. That he should have done so did not 
 say much for his self-control ; but her knowledge 
 of the truth would make his future part in 
 some ways less difficult to play ; ' and after 
 all,' thought he, ' it is not exactly my fault if 
 she has found out to-day what she must have 
 found out sooner or later ; I said nothing that 
 I ought not to have said ; 1 didn't stay with 
 her a moment longer than mere civility required. 
 Unless I had gone away without speaking to 
 her at all, I hardly see bow I could have be-
 
 152 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 haved with more discretion. And in any case 
 I must have seen her to-morrow, when she 
 would infaUibly have detected me. Don't 
 women always know when a man loves them ? * 
 
 He got what solace he could out of such 
 sophistries as these, and then, dismissing the 
 question of responsibility from his mind, fell to 
 thinking of how lovely she was, and recalling 
 all her words and movements, while the day- 
 light faded out of the west, and the sea changed 
 from blue to grey, and the stars came out, one 
 by one. 
 
 Early the next morning Mr. Irvine made 
 his appearance, charged by his wife with many 
 messages, the exact wording of which he was 
 compelled to own that he had forgotten on the 
 way. ' But I know,' he concluded, ' that I 
 have strict orders to take you back to Cardrew 
 with me, and I can say on my own account 
 that we shall all be very much disappointed if 
 you do not treat us like friends, and lunch and
 
 CARDREW 153 
 
 dine witli us whenever you are disposed. It 
 doesn't look very friendly to have left you to 
 house yourself in lodgings ; but I think Mrs. 
 Irvine explained to you that we are full to the 
 roof just now. We are such a large family,' 
 continued the old gentleman, with something 
 of a sigh, ' that I often have diflSculty in recol- 
 lecting our exact numbers and names. How- 
 ever, Mrs. Irvine will be able to tell you that — 
 and the more the merrier, you know,' he con- 
 cluded cheerfully. 
 
 Yidal was not quite sure about the universal 
 application of the proverb ; but he said what 
 was polite, and signified his wilhngness to be 
 entertained. He was just then under the full 
 influence of that beatific vision which comes 
 once (let us hope at least once) to aU mortals, 
 and which, while it lasts, has power to convert 
 the tamest landscape into a paradise, if only 
 this be connected in some way with one espe- 
 cial person : but even though Cardrew had not
 
 154 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 been glorified by the presence of Clare Irvine, 
 and tliougb. the lanes which led up to the house 
 from Poh'uth had never received her footprints, 
 Vidal must still have acknowledged that he had 
 seldom seen anything more beautiful in its own 
 way than the view which unfolded itself around 
 him as he was conducted towards his destina- 
 tion. Beauty of scenery, like all other kinds 
 of beauty, is more or less a matter of taste. 
 ' Shrubs and lowly tamarisks please not all,' as 
 the Latin grammar taught us long ago. In the 
 last century the Alps were more shuddered at 
 than admired ; and there are people who find 
 the north coast of Cornwall too wild and for- 
 bidding. But these, perhaps, have not had the 
 advantage of studying it in fair weather. When 
 the south wind blows softly, and the slowly 
 heaving ocean is calm ; when the flocks of sea- 
 birds that congregate upon the rocks and the 
 dark cliffs can sun themselves in peace ; when 
 the gorse and the heather have spread a mantle
 
 CARDREW 155 
 
 of purple and gold over the moors ; and when 
 the moistiu'e that is always in the air lends a 
 blue softness to all distant outlines, a man need 
 not be so fortunate as to be in love in order to 
 feel the peculiar charm of the region. Trees, 
 it must be owned, are not numerous, and such 
 as there are have been blown out of all sym- 
 metry by the furious winter gales ; but in 
 sheltered places vegetation is rich, and every 
 whitewashed cottage has its fuchsia trees and 
 its giant scarlet geraniums. 
 
 Cardrew, which stands on the hill-side, 
 facing a point or two south of west, was built 
 at a time when architects thought less of shelter 
 from prevailing winds than of sohdity of con- 
 struction ; but something has been done in the 
 way of high stone walls and belts of hardy 
 shrubs to protect the garden ; so that Yidal 
 was able conscientiously to compliment his host 
 upon the briUiant flower-beds through which 
 he made his way towards the lawn, where
 
 156 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 four youths in white flannels were playing 
 tennis. 
 
 Mrs. Irvine hurried forward to welcome 
 the stranger and to relieve her husband, who 
 promptly disappeared. ' How glad I am to see 
 you ! I told Clare she ought to have brought 
 you back to dinner last night, but she said she 
 was sure you wouldn't have come without 
 dressing — quite unnecessary ! Please under- 
 stand, once for all, that we are not going to 
 send you formal invitations. You are to come 
 liere whenever you hke, and dress exactly as 
 you please. What is the use of living in an 
 out-of-the-way place if one can't dispense with 
 formahty ? Now I must introduce my boys to 
 you. This is Jack, my eldest son, who is still 
 at college. Charley I think 1 told you about : 
 he is to be a soldier, I hope. Bob is in the 
 navy ; and the one who is trying to get behind 
 the rhododendrons is Dick, who hasn't left 
 school yet. Dick is shy — the only member of
 
 CARD RE W 157 
 
 our family who was ever known to suffer in 
 that way. — Come out, Dick, and shake hands 
 with Mr. Vidal. — There are two others, Tommy 
 and Billy, somewhere ' 
 
 ' In the yard, helping Jonas to cart muck,' 
 interpolated the timid Dick, in a deep bass 
 voice. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say so ! Then I trust 
 they mil stay where they are ; for I know that 
 nothing will induce them to wash their hands 
 before luncheon. — Now, boys, go on with your 
 game ; I am sure Mr. Vidal will excuse you.' 
 
 Mr. Vidal would most willingly have ex- 
 cused the absence of every man, woman, and 
 child in the house, except one ; but he did not 
 belong to that disagreeable class of lovers who 
 show the depth of their affection for a single 
 individual by assuming a savage demeanour 
 towards all others, and he soon made friends 
 with the rising generation of tvines, whom he 
 found to be very pleasant young fellows.
 
 158 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 They came and sat down beside him pre- 
 sently, Mrs. Irvine having retired into the 
 house, and put themselves and their resources 
 at his disposition as cordially as their parents 
 had done. Did he care about potting rabbits ? 
 and had he brought his gun with him ? If 
 not, he could use Jack's whenever he liked, 
 because Jack put on such a lot of side now that 
 he wouldn't condescend to that humble form of 
 sport. If sea-fishing was at all in his line, he 
 could have abundance of that any day.- Or, as 
 he had not been in Cornwall before, perhaps 
 he would like to visit some of the hons of the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what,' cried Bob excitedly ; 
 ' I'll drive you over to Tintagel one day in the 
 dog-cart. You ought to see Tintagel, you 
 know, and I can take you by some short cuts 
 that save miles.' 
 
 ' I should rather think he Avould ! ' said 
 Jack. ' He'd take you over a stone wall or
 
 CARDREW 
 
 fS9 
 
 two, most likely, because the horse would be 
 siu-e to run away wnth him, and he'd never find 
 it out till he tried to pull up. Don't you let 
 Bob entice you into getting into a wheeled 
 vehicle beside him. He tries it on wdth ever}^ 
 stranger who comes here, because he knows 
 very well that none of us are going to risk our 
 lives for his amusement. Only the other day, 
 in a moment of weakness, T allow^ed him to 
 take the reins, and he wouldn't give them up 
 again at. any price. I don't think I ever was 
 in such a funk in all my life. First we cannoned 
 against a farmer's gig and smashed his shaft ; 
 then we ran over a pig ' 
 
 ' We did no such thing,' interrupted Bob 
 angrily. ' We only just grazed the pig, and 
 we should have cleared the other craft right 
 enough if she had answered her helm properly. 
 You fellow^s think nobody, except yourselves, 
 can do the simplest thing.' 
 
 ' No, no, Bob,' said his elder brother ; ' we
 
 i6o ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 have implicit confidence in you when you are 
 upon your proper element ; but on dry land 
 we prefer to take care of our own necks ; and 
 if Mr. Yidal will be advised by me, he won't 
 let you try experiments upon his. Anyhow, I 
 can promise you one thing : you won't drive 
 my mare any more.' 
 
 ' I don't see much fun in driving about the 
 country this hot weather,' remarked Charley. 
 * Much better stop at home and play lawn 
 tennis.' 
 
 The guest seemed disposed to concur in 
 this view. ' Does your sister ever play ? ' he 
 asked carelessly ; to which Jack replied ' Oh 
 yes, sometimes — when there's another girl here. 
 But women rather spoil the game, don't you 
 think so ? ' 
 
 After a time, Heriot strolled across the 
 grass, with a straw hat on the back of his head 
 and a newspaper under his arm ; and Yidal felt 
 himself colouring guiltily as his friend ap-
 
 CARDREW i6i 
 
 proached. But Heriot's face did not express 
 disapprobation. All he said, on joining the 
 group, was, 'Well, Adrian, so you've found 
 your way to Cornwall ; ' after which he re- 
 marked that it must be getting near luncheon - 
 time. 
 
 By-and-by the young men went indoors to 
 change their flannels, so that Yidal had an 
 opportunity of saying penitently, ' I couldn't 
 help it, old man — I really couldn't ! ' 
 
 Heriot made no reply ; but after a moment 
 he astonished his companion a good deal by 
 exclaiming abruptly, 'I wish I were in your 
 shoes ! ' 
 
 ' Wish you were in my shoes ! ' echoed 
 Yidal. ' Why, in the name of all that's un- 
 reasonable, should you wish that P If ever 
 there was a miserable man upon the face of 
 the earth ' 
 
 ' Quite so ; but then misery such as yours 
 is Avorth more than all the contentment that 
 YOL. I. M
 
 i62 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ever I have got out of life, or shall get. Go 
 on ! — enjoy yourself — make the most of your 
 time. And when the day of tribulation arrives, 
 come to me and we will mingle oiu" tears. I'm 
 not going to trouble you with any more sage 
 precepts : events must take their course now. 
 You had it open to you to choose whether you 
 would come here or stay away, and you have 
 chosen. Far be it from me to suggest unavail- 
 ing regrets ! ' 
 
 Vidal glanced at the speaker with a mixture 
 of vexation and amusement. *! can't quite 
 make out whether you blame me or not, Heriot,' 
 he said. 
 
 'Neither can I,' answered Heriot. 'Sup- 
 pose w^e go in.' 
 
 Clare only made her appearance when the 
 rest of the party were entering the dining-room. 
 She took a place on the opposite side of the 
 table to Yidal, and although she spoke to him 
 several times, and was as friendly as everybody
 
 CARDREW 163 
 
 else, lie could not lielp noticing that slie avoided 
 meeting his eyes. ' She knows that I love her,' 
 thought the young man, with an inward exulta- 
 tion which he did not attempt to repress ; ' and 
 that is all that I ever dared to hope for. She 
 doesn't care for me — I can see that — and I'm 
 glad she doesn't. Am I glad? Well, no — 
 hardly. And yet I believe old Heriot is right, 
 and pain such as this is better than years of 
 bovine contentment. I wouldn't have it other- 
 wise if I could. Perhaps I could if I would ; 
 for love begets love, they say. But I won't ! 
 I'll keep out of her way ; I won't even speak 
 to her if I can help it ; and if I find myself 
 giving way ever so little, I'll be off the next 
 morning.' 
 
 "While these and other thoughts were pass- 
 ing through his mind he was conversing cheerily 
 with his entertainers, supported, like the Spar- 
 tan youth with the fox gnawing him under 
 his garment, by conscious heroism. Probably 
 
 M 2
 
 i64 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 other persons in the same room had an equal 
 title to self- approval, from Mr. Irvine, who had 
 Jack's bills to pay, down to Tommy and Billy, 
 who were seldom free from the dread that one 
 of their many dehnquencies was on the point of 
 discovery ; for in the tragic comedy of life every 
 man and woman has a part to play, and tliose 
 w^ho act best are deservedly the most liked. 
 But the generality of us wear a mask simply 
 because we must, and cannot, therefore, claim 
 all the credit that belonged to this voluntary 
 victim.
 
 i65 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DEXIAL. 
 
 During the month of August, with which the 
 present history has to do, two phenomena 
 occurred in the neighbourhood of Poh^uth. In 
 the first place, no rain fell, except in the shape 
 of an occasional shower, for three consecutive 
 weeks. This, astonishing as it was, was merely 
 a local and meteorological phenomenon : the 
 second, though less remarked, was certainly 
 more remarkable ; bemg, indeed, nothing less 
 than a phenomenon in the working of human 
 nature. For it is a positive fact that, through- 
 out the w^hole of the above-mentioned time, 
 Vidal saw Miss Irvine every day, and never, by 
 word, deed, or sign, attempted to make love to
 
 i66 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 her. He souglit tlie society of her brothers, 
 who swore by him when they discovered that 
 he knew how to use the graceful limbs with 
 which Nature had provided him, and was a 
 better swimmer and la wd- tennis player than 
 any of them. Mr. Irvine found iu him a patient 
 admirer of ancient coins and mediaBval art ; 
 while Mrs. Irvine, who had liked him from the 
 first, took him up with the ardour which she 
 had ever at the disposal of a fresh protege^ and 
 introduced him to all her neighbours, with 
 whispered assurances that he was a young man 
 of extraordinary talent — the coming novelist of 
 the day. But to Clare he was just civil, and no 
 more. If he saw her — as he often did — walk- 
 ing past his lodgings towards her favourite 
 headland, he watched her from the window 
 until she was out of sight, and then went re- 
 solutely back to his writing. At Cardrew he 
 avoided every possibility of being left alone 
 with her, and more than once declined to join
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DENIAL 167 
 
 a riding party because he foresaw the dangers 
 to which that form of exercise might so easily 
 give rise. 
 
 All this self- repression was not accomplished 
 without pain, insomnia, and loss of appetite. If 
 it was absurd — if it was illogical — if it was cal- 
 culated to produce exactly the opposite effect 
 to that intended, it was nevertheless a victory 
 in its way, and a victory of a kind which is not 
 very often won. For that much Yidal may be 
 allowed to have credit ; and in truth he was 
 disposed to take a good deal of credit to himself 
 at this time. He was quite astonished when 
 Heriot said to him one day, ' Merely as a 
 matter of curiosity, I should like very much to 
 know whether you are playing a deep and 
 skilful game, or whether you really have the 
 simplicity to imagine yourself a martyr.' 
 
 He stared for a moment, and then answered 
 quietly, ^ That is a hard speech to make about 
 any man, Heriot. I understand what you
 
 1 68 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 mean ; but I don't know that I have ever given 
 you the right to suspect me of being such a 
 miserable humbug.' 
 
 Heriot flushed shghtly. He was conscious 
 that his irritation had led him into saying more 
 than he ought to have done, and he apologised. 
 ' But I can't help thinking it a pity that you 
 should have taken up this particular line of 
 conduct,' he added. ' It would have been so 
 simple to go away.' 
 
 ' I would have gone away if it had been 
 necessary,' Vidal said ; ' but it is not necessary. 
 I saw plainly enough, the first day, that she 
 didn't care a rush for me. Yes, I know — I 
 remember what you said at Lucerne. It is just 
 possible that she might have come to care for 
 me in the long run, if I had tried to make her. 
 Well, I haven't tried.' 
 
 ' Oh, but, my dear fellow, the passive way 
 of trying is so much worse than the active ! ' 
 returned Heriot, half laughing.
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DENIAL 169 
 
 The young man turned away mth a gesture 
 of impatience. ' I wish to Heaven you would 
 let me alone ! ' he exclaimed. ' You said you 
 wouldn't lecture me any more. The long and 
 the short of it is that I cant go away yet. You 
 think she may be piqued into loving me because 
 I draw back from her ; but you don't under- 
 stand. I believe she is perfectly well aware of 
 how things are Avith me. She doesn't care. 
 You can see for yourself that her spirits haven't 
 suffered.' 
 
 Now, it was precisely because he thought 
 that her spirits had suffered that Heriot had 
 allowed himself to be provoked into breaking 
 his self-imposed silence ; but, not choosing to 
 say this, he shrugged his shoulders and walked 
 away. 
 
 This colloquy had taken place in the garden 
 at Cardrew ; and after his friend had left him, 
 Vidal sat down upon a bench and thought. 
 Hitherto he had tried to steer a course midway
 
 I70 ADRTAA VIDAL 
 
 between duty and inclination, and, oddly 
 enough, had succeeded after a fashion ; but 
 now he began to see that success of that kind 
 could not be permanent. He was young ; he 
 was suffering from the torments of unrequited 
 love ; he felt the imperious craving for happi- 
 ness natural to one of his years, and his sanguine 
 nature was for ever whispering to him that happi- 
 ness was not unattainable. He had a struggle 
 which lasted for five minutes, and left him some- 
 what pale. Then — ' I'll go,' he said softly, and 
 rising up, w^alked towards the house. 
 
 His intention was to burn his ships by 
 giving out forthwith that he w^as obliged to 
 leave Polruth on the morrow ; but when he 
 entered the hall, he found everybody too busy 
 to listen to him. For it had been arranged 
 that a long-deferred visit to Tintagel should 
 take place that day and just now luncheon- 
 baskets were being packed, and details discussed 
 amidst the clamour which accompanied all
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DEXIAL 171 
 
 movements of the Irvine family. Vidal listlessly- 
 looked on their preparations from the back- 
 ground. Clare, looking cool and fresh in a 
 pale-blue print dress, was moving about among 
 her brothers, lending a helping hand here and 
 there, and did not seem to have noticed his 
 arrival. An unreasonable anger took posses- 
 sion of the young man as he watched her. Was 
 she so pitiless, then ? Didn't she see how he 
 suffered ? Knowing that he loved her, was it 
 nothing to her whether he declared his love or 
 not ? There was a good deal of the spoilt child 
 in his composition, and he thought, ' Well, 
 perhaps when I am gone she will be sorry — at 
 least for a time.' 
 
 Presently the carriages came round to the 
 door, and a dispute arose as to the distribution 
 of the party, from which also Yidal held aloof. 
 Let them settle it among themselves, and put 
 him where they pleased ! Tpon the whole, he 
 would rather prefer not to be in the same
 
 172 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 carriage as Miss Irvine. Nevertheless, he was 
 not very sorry when Mr. and Mrs. Irvine, 
 Heriot, and Charley got into the landau and 
 w^ere driven away, followed by a small wag- 
 gonette containing the younger boys nd the 
 luncheon. The only remaining vehicle belong- 
 ing to the establishment was, as he knew. Jack's 
 dog-cart, wh^ch it was evident that Clare, Bob, 
 and liimself were to share with its owner. 
 
 * I hope you don't mind the back seat, 
 Vidal,' said the latter. ' Of course, you are 
 very welcome to drive, though, if you'd rather.' 
 
 ' Thanks,' answered Vidal, laughing, ' but I 
 have made it a rule through life never to drive 
 another man's horses in his presence, and the 
 back seat will do me very well.' He was 
 foohsh enough to feel a thrill of pleasure at the 
 prospect of passing his last few hours of com- 
 parative happiness in such close proximity to 
 the object of his hopeless passion. 
 
 The dog-cart was some time in making its
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DENIAL 173 
 
 appearance, and Jack began at length to grow 
 fidgety. ' Bob said he would put the mare in,' 
 he remarked ; ' but I don't believe he has the 
 slightest idea of how to set about it ; and there's 
 nobody to help him. Perhaps I had better go 
 and see what he is doing.' 
 
 However, at this moment Bob, beamincr 
 with satisfaction and flourishing his whip, pulled 
 up at the door with a dash. 'JSTow, you needn't 
 look at the gear in that suspicious way,' he 
 said, ' because it's all right. Do you suppose I 
 ne^er harnessed a horse before in my life ? ' 
 
 ' Well, you've done better than I expected,' 
 Jack confessed, after making a few alterations 
 and helping his sister into her place. ' Now 
 then. Bob, give me the reins and jump down.' 
 
 ' Jump down, indeed! ' returned Bob loftily. 
 *Not exactly! No, my dear boy, you jump 
 up. You are going to have the honour and 
 pleasure of being piloted by me to-day.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Bob ! don't play the fool,' said
 
 174 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Jack, with some impatience. 'We've got a 
 long drive before us, and I don't want to waste 
 time. Come ! — hand over the reins.' 
 
 ' Beati possidentes,' rephed the other pla- 
 cidly, without moving. 'You won't turn me 
 out without a fight for it, I can tell you.' 
 
 A fight would undoubtedly have ensued 
 then and there if Clare had not intervened. 
 'Let him drive for once. Jack,' she pleaded. 
 ' He won't be with us much longer, you know, 
 and he will promise to be very careful — won't 
 you, Bob ? ' 
 
 ' I am always careful,' Bob affirmed ; ' but 
 to-day I shall surpass myself. And look here, 
 Jack : if I damage the beast I'll buy you 
 another as soon as ever I can save up enough 
 money. There ! I can't say no fairer than 
 that.' 
 
 ' And how about our funeral expenses ? ' 
 inquired Jack. But as he was a very good- 
 natured young man, he made no further ob-
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DEXIAL 175 
 
 jections, and scrambled up beside Yidal, to 
 whom he remarked, with a sigh, ' If I had only 
 foreseen this, I should have insisted upon your 
 driving. But it is just wildly possible that we 
 may pull through without a smash.' 
 
 This was very consolatory. Vidal, remem- 
 bering that a life far more precious than his 
 own was being placed in jeopardy, inwardly 
 commended the adventurous Bob to the devil ; 
 but it was hardly his part to enter a demurrer, 
 so he smiled, and held his peace. 
 
 They were driven at a quiet pace down the 
 park ; though, on turning out of the gates, the 
 trap gave a lurch which caused Jack to draw 
 in liis breath sharply. ' For the love of Heaven, 
 man,' he exclaimed, ' don't take yom^ corners 
 like that ! Try to recollect that we're on two 
 wheels, not four.' 
 
 ' You're onh^ fit to be trundled about upon 
 one,' retorted the other. 'A wheelbarrow is
 
 176 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 the conveyance for you. Never saw such a 
 nervous chap as you are in my life.' 
 
 And with that he gave the mare a cut with 
 the whip, which made her throw herself into 
 her collar and accomphsh the next quarter of a 
 mile at a speed that called forth some subdued 
 remonstrance from Clare. Then, more by good 
 luck than good guidance, they passed a couple 
 of carts without a collision, and turned off the 
 high road into a narrow lane. 
 
 'Now,' said Bob exultantly, ' 111 show you 
 the short cuts.' 
 
 Jack groaned. ' It's no use protesting,' he 
 said to Yidal. ' Sit tight, and let us pray that 
 we may be upset in a soft place.' 
 
 ' Or that we may not be upset at all,' sug- 
 gested Vidal. 
 
 ' Oh, that's past praying for. And. by 
 George ! here's a flock of sheep. Now he'll 
 run us up that bank — I know he will ! ' 
 
 The prophecy was hardly uttered before it
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DENIAL 177 
 
 was fulfilled. The dog-cart swayed, balanced 
 itself for a moment on the off wheel, and then 
 turned over with a crash, sending its occupants 
 flying into the opposite ditch. Fortunately, 
 the fall was so gradual that nothing about 
 them suffered, except their clothes and their 
 dignity. Vidal, after standing on his head for a 
 minute, struggled into an attitude more conveni- 
 ent for making observations, and found that 
 his companions were already erect. Clare was 
 replacing her hat, which had fallen off; the 
 two young men were standing over the ruins of 
 the cart ; and up a distant hill the mare, who 
 had kicked herself free, could be seen galloping , 
 with the broken shafts dano^lino^ at her sides. 
 
 ' This,' remarked Jack sadly, ' comes of 
 letting a sailor drive.' 
 
 Bob tilted his hat over his eyes, scratched 
 his head, and looked crestfallen. * I'm awfully 
 sorry,' he said ; ' but it was the sort of thing 
 that might have happened to anybody. I don't 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 suppose I sliould have done it if you hadn't 
 flurried me so ; but I saw we were going to 
 foul the bank, and I believe I made a mistake 
 and took a haul at the port rein instead of the 
 starboard. I'll pay for the damage,' he added 
 ruefully. 
 
 ' Wait till you know what it is,' returned 
 Jack. ' I shouldn't wonder if the mare were to 
 kill herself.' 
 
 Happily, however, this apprehension proved 
 to be unfounded ; for Bob had not yet started 
 in pursuit when a labourer appeared leading 
 the runaway animal. He had caught her, as 
 he affirmed, at the risk of his life, and demanded 
 adequate remuneration. 
 
 ' And now,' said Jack, when this business- 
 like person had been dismissed, ' the question 
 is, what are we to do ? ' 
 
 ' I know what / am going to do,' answered 
 Clare, laughing ; ' I am going to make the best 
 of md way home.'
 
 THE REWARD OF SELF-DENIAL 179 
 
 ' But we must manage to let the others 
 know what has become of us somehow, or they'll 
 think we've broken our necks. Bob, the least 
 you can do is to follow them and tell them of 
 your success. I suppose you can hire a trap 
 of some kind in Polruth — and somebody to 
 drive it for you. — What will 3'ou do, VidalH 
 It's a pity you should miss seeing TintageL' 
 
 But Yidal answered, with perfect truth, that 
 he didn't care very much about Tintagel, and 
 Bob scouted the idea of returning to Polruth 
 and searching about for a conveyance. 'I'll 
 foot it,' he said. ' I can cut across country, 
 and I shall catch them up before they have 
 done half the distance.' 
 
 And without more ado he set off at a 
 slinging trot, being perhaps not unwilhng to 
 testify in some measure to his penitence. 
 
 N 'Z
 
 i8o ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that circumstances for 
 which he was in no wise responsible placed a 
 conscientious man in a quandary. Jack, who 
 had to see about getting the wreck of his dog- 
 cart transported to Cardrew, evidently took it 
 for crranted that Yidal would walk home with 
 his sister ; and, indeed, no other arrangement 
 seemed possible. Yet Yidal could not but 
 perceive that such a proceeding would be 
 fraught with the gravest peril. What he 
 feared just now was not so much that the be- 
 trayal of his passion in words might call forth 
 some response, as that the faint hopes which he 
 still cherished might be crushed out of him by
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON i8i 
 
 a point-blank refusal. Indeed, he felt con- 
 vinced tliat this calamity must inevitably befall 
 him if he spoke ; and yet he knew himself well 
 enough to be aware that to spend the remainder 
 of the day with Clare and to hold liis peace 
 would be a task so difficult as to be well-nigh 
 impossible. Eecognising, therefore, the dangers 
 that threatened him, he wisely determined to 
 see her as far as the lodge, and there bid her 
 farewell. The necessity of packing up for an 
 early start the next day would give him a 
 sufficient excuse for returning to his lodgings. 
 
 But Yidal, like the rest of the world, was 
 a better hand at forming resolutions than at 
 carrying them into effect ; and when Clare and 
 he had reached the entrance to Cardrew, he 
 had not yet so much as announced his im- 
 pending departure. Up to this point the walk 
 had not been exactly an enjoyable one. There 
 had been an uncomfortable feeling of restraint 
 on both sides which had made the way seem
 
 ,i82 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 long ; yet, although the young people had kept 
 
 up conversation with some difficulty, and had 
 
 said nothing that was not absolutely flat and 
 
 commonplace, they had been exchanging 
 
 thoughts through some more subtle medium 
 
 than that of speech, and Vidal was no longer 
 
 able to take a dispassionate view of the situation. 
 
 He understood that Clare had been asking him 
 
 the whole time what was the matter with him ; 
 
 and he had answered, ' The matter is that I 
 
 adore you, and that I must not say so.' Now, 
 
 while he held the gate open for her to pass 
 
 through, she said, after a momentary hesitation, 
 
 ' Will you not come up to the house ? Jack 
 
 will be back soon, and we can give you a 
 
 luncheon of some sort.' And Vidal, feeling 
 
 that all strength of purpose had gone out of 
 
 him, let the gate swing back, murmuring, 
 
 rather foolishly, ' Oh, thanks — if I shan't be in 
 
 the way.' 
 
 Every now and then — not often, of course ;
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 183 
 
 still, every now and then — it happens to most 
 of us to make up our minds that we will do 
 the things that we ought not to do ; and on 
 those rare and dehghtful occasions such of us 
 as are ^vise at once kick conscience overboard. 
 For if one cannot do wrong without suffering 
 from pangs of remorse the whole time, it is 
 surely better to stick to the dull path of duty, 
 and preserve at least one's self-respect, A 
 certain merry cardinal, now no more, once 
 found himself at a great dinner in Eome during 
 Lent. There was fish for him, and there were 
 vegetables, and of these he partook freely, 
 getting what comfort he could out of them 
 and maintaining a cheerful countenance. But 
 when a haunch of venison made its appearance 
 his brow became clouded with care ; for his 
 soul, hke the soul of Isaac, loved venison, and 
 he could not bring himself either to let the 
 dish pass or to indulge his appetite. If he had 
 only neglected the fish he might have stretched
 
 i84 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 a point and allowed himself a little meat for 
 his stomach's sake ; but to eat both fish and 
 flesh at one and the same meal was what no 
 ecclesiastic could do wdthout falling into sin. 
 For some moments the conflict which was 
 raging within liim was visible by outward signs 
 to his neighbours; then, breaking into a jolly 
 laugh, '- Basta ! ' he exclaimed, ' mi confessero V 
 So he swallow^ed the venison and enjoyed it, 
 and, let us hope, duly performed penance the 
 next day. Yidal had this in common with his 
 Eminence, that he neither deceived himself nor 
 repented at the wrong moment. As soon as 
 he had yielded to temptation his heart grew 
 lighter, and he thought, ' Well, since this is to 
 be my last day with her, it shall be as happy 
 a one as I can make it.' He let himself go ; 
 he began to talk, without first thinking of 
 every word that he said ; and Clare's spirits 
 also seemed to rise in sympathy with his ; 
 so that, before long, the cloud which had
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 185 
 
 arisen between them of late was all but dis- 
 pelled. 
 
 In due course they discovered that they 
 were hungry ; and then they had luncheon 
 together in the dining-room, which seemed 
 strangely silent and empty with only two 
 people seated at the long table. One of them, 
 at all events, desired no addition to their 
 number, and longed only for time to stand 
 still. 
 
 ' Do you know, I am very glad you let Bob 
 drive,' he could not help saying ; and Clare did 
 not ask him why he was glad, but only laughed, 
 and blushed ever so slightly. 
 
 They had finished their meal before Jack 
 came in, apologising quite needlessly for having 
 been so long, and explaining that he had had 
 a great deal of trouble in finding somebody to 
 bring the cart home. When he had stayed a 
 vigorous appetite, he proposed a cigar and a 
 game of billiards to his guest, who replied that
 
 i86 ADRIAN VIDAL. 
 
 he didn't want to smoke, and that it would be 
 a sin to stay indoors on such a fine afternoon. 
 
 ' We might have a knock-up at lawn tennis, 
 then,' suggested the innocent Jack. 
 
 ' All right, if you like,' answered Vidal ; 
 ' but don't you think it's too hot to run 
 about?' 
 
 'But we can't lie on our backs in the 
 garden till dinner-time,' remonstrated the other. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know,' said Vidal ; ' I think I 
 could. — What shall you do, Miss Irvine ? ' 
 
 Clare replied that she meant to sit out in 
 the shade somewhere ; and then, to Vidal's 
 great relief. Jack said, ' Well, if you don't mind, 
 I think I'll just stroll down to Polruth and see 
 if I can't find out something about the otter- 
 hounds. I heard they were to meet near this 
 next week, and I should like to show you an 
 otter-hunt, Vidal, if you've never seen one.' 
 
 In this way Vidal's destiny led him into 
 pleasant places. Sitting on a bench in the
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 187 
 
 shade, with the object of his adoration beside 
 liim, with the shimberous murmur of insects in 
 his ears, and with all the sunny landscape 
 stretched out before him till it dropped ab- 
 ruptly to meet the blue Atlantic far beneath, he 
 surrendered himself to the bhss of the passing 
 moments, and began to realise what is so 
 seldom realised by mortals, the dehght of liv- 
 ing in the present. Only to watch Clare, to 
 listen to her, to meet her eyes every now and 
 again, was enough, and he almost forgot that a 
 morrow was coming which would find liim 
 journeying towards London and duty. At any 
 rate, if some suppressed consciousness of this 
 sad fact was in his mind, he would not suffer 
 any hint of it to pass his lips, thinking, very 
 sensibly, that it would be time enough to say 
 what must be said when the others returned 
 from Tintagel. 
 
 But, considering the condition of mind that 
 he was in, this and all other matters that he might
 
 1 88 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 desire to conceal were evidently at tlie mercy of 
 hazard. His colloquy with Clare was not con- 
 tinuous, but was broken by irregular intervals of 
 silence more dangerous than speech. Diuring one 
 of these Vidal glanced at his neighbour, whose 
 hands were lying idly m her lap, and who was, to 
 all appearance, plunged m profound meditation. 
 She remained so long without stirring that at last 
 he could not refrain from asking softly, ' What 
 are you thinking about, Miss Irvine ? ' 
 
 She started, smiled, and made the reply 
 which is usually made to that absurd question, 
 ' Oh, about nothing particular.' 
 
 If she had answered quite truthfully, she 
 would have had to say, ' About you ; ' but not 
 being disposed to submit to further cross-examin- 
 ation, she uttered the meaningless phrase above 
 recorded ; and, by way of changing the subject, 
 followed it up with a question on her own 
 score : ' Are you writing another book ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' answered Vidal ; ' that is my
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 189 
 
 trade, you know.' He had wondered more than 
 once why, during the whole time that he had 
 been in Cornwall, Clare had never said a word 
 to him about his literary pursuits ; but, to be 
 sure, he had given her httle opportunity for 
 doing so. 
 
 There was another short pause before she 
 resumed : ' Is it to be like the last?' 
 
 ' I hope not,' answered Yidal, with a laugh. 
 ' The last didn't give universal satisfaction, as I 
 dare say you are aware.' 
 
 ' Didn't it ? ' said Clare ; and then, rather 
 hesitatingly, ' Do you mind my saying that I 
 didn't like it very much ? ' 
 
 ' I don't mind in the least,' repHed Vidal, 
 who, however, minded a good deal. ' No one 
 knows better than I do that it was a dull 
 book.' 
 
 'Oh, it was not that ; it was extremely 
 clever, I thought — only of course I am no 
 judge. But — but is it quite true? Do you
 
 I90 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 think people are really as bad as you make them 
 out ? ' 
 
 . ' I should say they were — quite,' answered 
 Vidal. 'The fact is, that I didn't know I 
 had painted humanity at all particularly 
 black.' 
 
 'You painted London society very black, 
 at all events. And there were no nice people 
 in the book — at least no nice women.' 
 
 ' I thought some of them were rather nice 
 in their way,' said Vidal. 
 
 In truth, he had tried to make them so ; 
 but as he had drawn most of his characters 
 from real life, and had not, perhaps, penetrated 
 much beneath the surface of their real lives, 
 their defects had been rendered more promi- 
 nent than their virtues. 
 
 'You seem to have no belief in women,' pur- 
 sued Clare. ' You seem to think that they are 
 all deceitful and vain and greedy, and that the 
 things which they covet most in the world are
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 191 
 
 plenty of money and plenty of admirers. I 
 don't tLink that is the truth.' 
 
 'Oh, but indeed,' cried the young man 
 eagerly, ' you are doing me a great injustice — or 
 else I must have expressed myself very badly — if 
 you think that is what I meant. I was writing 
 about a particular class, and I never thought of 
 passing such a sweeping censure, even upon 
 that class. I took what I beUeved to be types 
 of it, that was all.' 
 
 • And is your heroine a t^-pe of it ? ' 
 ' Which do you call the heroine ? ' 
 ' I supposed she was the heroine ; at all 
 events, there is more about her in the book than 
 about anybody else. I mean the wretch who is 
 in love with the hero, and who refuses to leave 
 her husband, whom she hates, because she 
 can't bear to lose her money and her position.' 
 Yiclal felt a little uncomfortable. He 
 remembered certain passages in his book which 
 he would just as soon that Miss Irvine should
 
 192 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 not have read, and he understood that what 
 appeared to him to be a temperate enough 
 picture of modern society might easily strike 
 her as an abominable libel. ' I am afraid such 
 people do exist,' he said at length. 
 
 ' Perhaps they do. There is Lady St. 
 Austell, for instance — and I have heard of 
 others. But surely they can't be so numerous 
 as to be typical.' She paused for a moment, 
 and then gave utterance to the phrase which 
 has made domestic criticism so appalling to 
 many a writer. ' You say fashionable women 
 are like that,' she remarked ; ' but— how do 
 you know they are ? ' 
 
 Now, Vidal's past career, if not absolutely 
 immaculate, would have borne looking into 
 quite as well as that of the generality of young 
 men who have lived in the world ; but he was 
 not prepared to tell Miss Irvine the exact 
 means by which he had arrived at his know- 
 ledge of a certain variety of feminine character.
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 193 
 
 So he answered, ' Oh, well, a good deal of it 
 is hearsay, of course. One must be guided in 
 some degree by hearsay.' 
 
 The effect of this admission was eminently 
 satisfactory. ' I should not have thought that 
 hearsay was a very safe guide,' Clare rejoined ; 
 but it was plain that the writer's chief offence 
 in her eyes had now been removed. ' By-and- 
 by,' she added, ' you will think me very 
 presumptuous for saying all this ; but I have 
 wanted for such a long time to ask you 
 whether you really meant what I fancied you 
 did ; and I am so glad that you don't.' 
 
 ' One writes of what one sees and hears,' 
 Vidal said. ' Perhaps I have had rather too 
 much of the atmosphere of London. If I had 
 been near you — I mean, if I had been living at 
 Polruth when I wrote that book, it would have 
 been a very different production.' 
 
 ' And the next one will have been partly 
 written at Polruth, will it not r I hope, from 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 your saying that, that you find the atmosphere 
 of Cornwall mspiring, and that you won't be in 
 a hurry to leave it.' 
 
 ' I must leave it,' returned the young man 
 abruptly. ' 1 am going away to-morrow.' 
 
 What made him come out with this blunt 
 statement, and add no single word of explana- 
 tion to it, he hardly knew ; but it may be that 
 he was not wholly innocent of a dramatic 
 intention. He was looking down when he 
 spoke ; but presently he stole a glance out of 
 the corner of his eye, and saw that Clare 
 appeared not only startled but displeased. 
 
 ' We shall all be very sorry to lose you,' 
 she said, rather coldly ; ' but it is natural that 
 you should be bored here.' 
 
 ' Bored ! ' exclaimed Vidal. ' But you can't 
 think that. I have never been so happy in my 
 life as during these last three weeks — yes ; in 
 uspite of everything, I have never been so 
 happy ; and perhaps I shall never be so happy
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOOA 195 
 
 again. I would give ten of the years that I 
 may still have before me to stay another month 
 at Polruth— if I dared.' 
 
 ' If you dared ? ' repeated Clare, with raised 
 eyebrows. 
 
 ' Yes — if I dared. Don't you understand? 
 I know you understand. I have been here too 
 long as it is. Heriot said I ought never to 
 have come ; and perhaps he was right. I 
 didn't mean to tell you this ; but you'll forgive 
 it, I hope, now that I am going away so 
 soon.' 
 
 ' Why must you go ? ' asked Clare in a low 
 voice. 
 
 He broke into a short laugh. ' Why ? 
 Because I have only six hundred a year in the 
 world, and because if I had six thousand you 
 wouldn't care for me.' 
 
 Clare made no answer ; but she looked at 
 him, and her eyes spoke a language which 
 could not be misinterpreted. 
 
 2
 
 196 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Lector dilectissime^ you have been young, 
 possibly you are young still. It may be that 
 you are yet conjugating the verb amare in the 
 present tense, indicative mood, active and 
 passive voices, whereas some of us have long 
 since got on to the past tenses, and even to the 
 conjunctive moods of these. But to whichever 
 category you may belong, you must be aware 
 that there are circumstances under which 
 prudence ceases to be either possible or desir- 
 able, and you will therefore readily understand 
 how it came to pass that Jack Irvine, saunter- 
 ing homewards from the village, became aware 
 of two figures seated in the garden above him, 
 and was presently astounded to see them draw 
 closer together and lose distinctness of outline 
 in a close embrace. Jack was a young man 
 who possessed some clearness of mental, as 
 well as of physical vision, and his comments 
 upon what he had witnessed were brief and to 
 the purpose.
 
 A SUMMER AFTERNOON 197 
 
 ' By George ! ' he exclaimed aloud, after a 
 protracted whistle ; ' there'll be a row in the 
 house this journey, and no mistake ! I don't 
 beheve the fellow has got enough to keep 
 liimself; and who the deuce was to suspect 
 what he was after all this time ? Why, he has 
 hardly spoken a dozen words to her since he 
 has been down here ! Pretty bad form, I must 
 say, keeping thiugs dark like that.' 
 
 Then, as he did not wish to play the spy 
 any longer, he turned away and marched off in 
 the opposite direction, with his hands in his 
 pockets, meditating mournMly.
 
 198 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 DKEAMS. 
 
 Possibly Jack Irvine, whose notion of a desir- 
 able brother-in-law was that such a person 
 should be the owner, at the very least, of a 
 country house and good shooting, may have 
 been over-ready to assume that the require- 
 ments of his parents must necessarily be the 
 same as his own, and that they would at once 
 refuse to listen to any suitor in Vidal's circum- 
 stances. Be that as it may, the ' row ' which 
 he had foretold never came off. Poor Mrs. 
 Irvine could not pretend to be very much 
 pleased when Clare followed her into her bed- 
 room that night and there made confession of 
 what had occurred during the afternoon ; but
 
 DREAMS 199 
 
 she neither reproached her daughter nor for- 
 bade the engagement. She had always been 
 too kind-hearted to cherish schemes which 
 were not compatible with the happiness of 
 others, and although a son-in-law who, like 
 Mr. Wilbraham, possessed money and lands, as 
 well as influence in high quarters, would natur- 
 ally have been more to her taste, it was not in 
 her to reject Vidal merely on account of his 
 poverty. So she only sighed, and said, ' I 
 think he might have spoken to your father first. 
 It would have shown better feeling if he had.' 
 
 ' But he did not mean to speak to anybody,' 
 Clare urged. 'He meant to go away to- 
 morrow morning without saying a word ; and 
 I suppose he would have gone and there never 
 would have been any explanation at all, but 
 for that fortunate accident. I shall always feel 
 grateful to Bob for upsetting us out of the dog- 
 cart.' 
 
 ' He must never be allowed to do such a
 
 200 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 thing again ! ' cried Mrs. Irvine quickly — as 
 though a repetition of the catastrophe might 
 be expected to bring about a second improvi- 
 dent marriage. ' How Jack ever trusted him 
 with the reins I cannot understand ! But it is 
 all very surprising to me. Oh, I don't mean to 
 say a word against Mr. Yidal. I hked him 
 from the first ; and he is certainly very hand- 
 some and clever ; only somehow he is not at 
 all the sort of man whom I should have ex- 
 pected you to choose. And it is a pity that he 
 should be so badly off ; isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose so,' assented Clare ; ' but 
 that is no fault of his ; and, you know, we shall 
 not be married for ever so long — not until he 
 is making more money.' Then she put her 
 arms round her mother's neck and kissed her. 
 ' I am sorry, mamma,' she whispered. ' I 
 know it is a disappointment, and you are very 
 good about it. I did try to accept Mr. Wilbra- 
 ham, and I thought perhaps I should be able
 
 DREAMS 20I 
 
 to do it, until — until that time at Lucerne. 
 Then I knew that it was not possible.' 
 
 ' At Lucerne ! ' ejaculated Mrs. Irvine. ' Do 
 you mean to say that it began so long ago as 
 that ? Well, in a sort of way, that is a relief ; 
 for I don't feel now as if I had been so much 
 to blame in persuading him to come down 
 here. Now, my dear child, you need not pull- 
 my cap off, because I really am quite fond of 
 Mr. Vidal, and from what you tell me, I have 
 no doubt that he tried to do what was right — 
 only these things will happen, in spite of all 
 precautions. I will talk to your father about 
 it, and we shall see what he says. I can't 
 promise that he will give his consent, you 
 know.' 
 
 But Clare knew very well that Mr. Irvine's 
 consent was precisely what her mother could 
 safelv answer for at all times, and she had no 
 fears as to the result of a formal appeal to the 
 head of the family. It seemed almost unfair
 
 202 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 to take advantage of such simplicity ; and, 
 indeed, this was very much the feehng that 
 Vidal had when he was summoned to the old 
 gentleman's study the next morning, and was 
 received as affectionately as if he had been a 
 milhonaire. 
 
 ' I am sure that you will make Clare 
 happy,' Mr. Irvine was kind enough to say ; 
 ' and my wife tells me that you are sincerely 
 attached to one another. That is the essential 
 thing — no doubt that is the essential thing.' 
 
 ' I think it is,' Vidal said. ' But,' he added, 
 with a smile, ' I am aft^aid most fathers would 
 consider it only one of the essentials ; and I 
 wanted to say, Mr. Irvine, I hope you under- 
 stand — that I intended to keep silence until I 
 had a rather larger income to offer. It wouldn't 
 be true to say that I regret having spoken ; but 
 I do feel that I ought to be scolded. You are 
 all much too kind and generous.' 
 
 ' Oh, you mean about the money ? ' Mr.
 
 DREAMS 203 
 
 L^vine said, rather vaguely. ' Yes ; i\Irs. Ir^ane 
 was telling me. Six hundred a year — it isn't 
 much, certainly. I suppose one couldn't live 
 upon six hundred a year, could one .^ ' 
 
 The question was so evidently asked in 
 perfect good faith that Vidal laughed outright. 
 ' I believe people do hve upon even less than 
 that,' he rephed ; ' but a very small income 
 entails sacrifices which perhaps you would 
 hardly hke your daughter to put up with. I 
 hope to be better off before long, and even now 
 I make from about a hundred to a hundred 
 and fifty more than the fixed sum that I have 
 named ; still it would unquestionably be more 
 prudent for us to wait awhile before thinking 
 of marriage.' 
 
 Then he laughed again ; for he could not 
 help being a httle tickled by the whimsicahty 
 of his preaching prudence to his prospective 
 father-in-law. 
 
 Mr. Irvine remained grave, and rubbed his
 
 204 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 head with an air of perplexity. ' The question 
 of money,' he observed confidentially, ' is 
 always a troublesome one. I used to think 
 that I was pretty well off; but nowadays what 
 with education and allowances, and one thing 
 and another, there are so many payments that 
 I am apt to forget how^ I stand — at least, until 
 I get my pass-book from the bank. But 
 certainly we ought to help — oh yes ; we shall 
 be able to help, to some extent ; and although 
 
 it may not be as much as we could wish ' 
 
 He broke off, and then asked, almost apolo- 
 getically, ' Upon how little, now, do you think 
 it could be done ? ' 
 
 Vidal hesitated ; and indeed the question 
 was not a very easy one to answer. 
 
 'Well,' resumed Mr. Irvine, 'I suppose a 
 thousand a year would be the least. As you 
 say, people do, no doubt, marry upon less ; 
 but we should not like to think of Clare being 
 in difficulties. Let me see : six and four make
 
 DREAMS 205 
 
 ten — four hundred, li'm ! ' He pinched his 
 lower Hp between his finger and thumb, and 
 looked up with an appealing expression of 
 helplessness. 'Well, I'm sure I don't know,' 
 he said. ' Possibly some means might be 
 devised But perhaps,' suddenly brighten- 
 ing up — ' perhaps you had better consult Mrs. 
 Irvine.' 
 
 All this was by no means what Vidal had 
 anticipated, and it afiected him with a mixture 
 of gratitude and compunction. Who would 
 ever have supposed that there were such dis- 
 interested people in the world ? He felt almost 
 inclined to say, ' But, my dear, good sir, you 
 don't know the rules of the game. It is only 
 when your daughter marries a rich man that 
 you are required to make handsome settle- 
 ments. If she takes a fancy to a pauper, your 
 course is to point out that you can't afibrd to 
 allow her anything ; and then the match is 
 broken off. You will be behaving very mag-
 
 2o6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 nanimously by merely giving a conditional 
 assent to our engagement.' 
 
 He did not make this speech at the time ; 
 but he did afterwards say something of the 
 kind to Mrs. Irvine, who laughed at him. Did 
 he flatter himself, she asked, that it was for 
 love of him that they wished to make their 
 daughter comfortable? And if they could 
 spare a few hundreds a year (it would not be 
 four hundred, she was afraid, but it might be 
 three ; and surely the harvest of Mr. Vidal's 
 pen would suffice to make up the deficiency) 
 — if they could spare this money, how could 
 it be better spent than in averting the ordeal of 
 a long engagement ? 
 
 ' I abhor long engagements ! ' the good 
 lady went on. 'For the man it is all very 
 well, because being engaged doesn't interfere 
 with any of his amusements ; but the poor girl 
 is in a wretched position. Young men fight 
 shy of her, and the other girls generally laugh
 
 DREAMS 207 
 
 at her in their sleeves, and declare that it will 
 never come to anything. And most frequently 
 it does not come to anything, as I could prove 
 to you by many instances in ray own ex- 
 perience. But now, what I was thinking was 
 this. In London, a thousand a year doesn't 
 go far. You would be just able to keep your 
 heads above water, no doubt, and you would 
 have enough to eat and drink ; but you couldn't 
 attempt to go into society — and that makes life 
 so dull for young people. But supposing that 
 you were to take a house down here in Corn- 
 wall — and I know of several within reach that 
 might do — there is the house that old ]\Irs. 
 Tregenna used to live in, near St. Ives, for 
 instance, and plenty of others — well, then, you 
 see, you could live quite cheaply, and you 
 would be able to keep a conveyance of some 
 kind, and you could go about and see your 
 friends. And the quiet of the country, too — 
 such a boon to a Hterary man ! Then, as to
 
 2o8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 the furnishing, that could be managed at a 
 very small cost. We should take our time 
 about it ; we should attend sales ; and Mr. 
 Irvine would be of the greatest use to you in 
 picking up unexpected bargains ; for he knows 
 every curiosity dealer in the West of England, 
 not to mention that he has endless oak chests 
 and chairs and things stowed away in an out- 
 house, because we haven't a corner to put 
 them in. I really do believe that, with a little 
 time and trouble, we could furnish your house 
 almost for nothing.' 
 
 It will be seen that Mrs. Irvine's first feehng 
 of chagrin had quite disappeared, and that she 
 was looking forward to her daughter's marriage 
 with that delight which an opportunity of 
 arranging other people's affairs for them always 
 afforded her. ' What do you think ? ' she con- 
 cluded anxiously. 
 
 ' I think you are the kindest people I ever 
 met or heard of,' answered the young man.
 
 DREAMS 209 
 
 * Of course there is no necessity for our living 
 in London, and I am sure you are right about 
 the money going further here than there. My 
 only doubt is whether I should be at all justified 
 in accepting so much from you.' 
 
 ' But it is Clare who accepts it, not you ; 
 and when you are rich, as I am sure you will 
 be after you have written another book or two, 
 she need not take it any longer. Didn't I hear 
 of somebody who had been paid five thousand 
 pounds for a novel ? And a novel could not 
 take much more than a year to write, I suppose ; 
 so there is five thousand a year at once.' 
 
 Perhaps it was hardly worth while to dispute 
 the trustworthiness of this off-hand calculation ; 
 and indeed Mrs. Ir\ine (who had never read a 
 syllable of Vidal's writings) had by this time 
 quite convinced herself that the mantle of 
 Dickens or Thackeray or George Ehot — it did 
 not much matter which — had fallen upon the 
 shoulders of her future son-in-law. 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2IO ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 So it came to be an understood thing that 
 Yidal and Clare, instead of waiting for an in- 
 definite period, were to be married in the 
 autumn, and this arrangement was fortunate 
 enough to meet with an approval which was 
 practically unanimous. Jack, while regretting 
 that his sister should not have done better for 
 herself and her family, admitted that, if she 
 must needs wed a poor man, she couldn't have 
 chosen a better fellow ; adding, as the result of 
 his observation, that when you had made up 
 your mind to marry any particular person, you 
 had best look sharp about it. 
 
 But Jack, to be sure, had not been con- 
 sulted about the matter. Heriot, who had, 
 was less accommodating. ' Long engagements 
 may be open to all the objections that you 
 urge,' was his reply to Mrs. Irvine's representa- 
 tions ; ' but I cannot see that there is any need 
 for hurry in the present instance. Just now 
 they are ready to consent to anything ; and no
 
 DREAMS 211 
 
 doubt this part of the world strikes them as 
 being a sort of garden of Eden ; but it is pro- 
 bable that one of them will think differently 
 before very long; and then it might come to 
 pass that you would regret having been so pre- 
 cipitate. Delightful as Cornwall is, it is not 
 exactly the place of residence for a man who 
 proposes to make his living by studies of 
 modern life and character. Besides, they are 
 both young, and they have known each other 
 only a very short time. I really don't think 
 that waiting a year or so would do either of 
 them much harm.' 
 
 ' It seems to me that you want the engage- 
 ment to be broken off,' cried Mrs. Irvine 
 ii'ritably; for what she had applied for was 
 approval, not advice. 
 
 ' Adrian Yidal is about the most intimate 
 friend I have in the world,' answered Heriot, 
 ' and I hope you know how I feel towards all 
 
 p 2
 
 212 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 of you. I have no more sincere wish than that 
 both Clare and he should be happy.' 
 
 This somewhat ambiguous response satisfied 
 Mrs. Irvine, who returned, in a tone calculated 
 to silence further opposition, ' Then let them 
 be happy in their own way.' 
 
 For the time being, at all events, their 
 happiness was complete. Their movements 
 and their meetings were free from restriction of 
 any kind, and, except in the shape of some 
 derisive raillery on the part of the boys, they 
 incurred no penalty for withdrawing themselves 
 from the daily amusements of those about 
 them. Whether, in the course of their pro- 
 tracted rambles, they learnt to know one 
 another better, may be doubted, since they 
 were both under the glamour of love; but 
 their mutual admiration increased — which was 
 perhaps a more desirable thing. As for Yidal, 
 he could hardly believe in his good fortune, 
 and told Clare as much one day.
 
 DREAMS 213 
 
 ' It seems too good to be true,' he said. 
 ' To think of it ! Only a few days ago I was 
 keeping myself ahve upon a vestige — a mere 
 vestige — of hope ; just a httle peradventure 
 which I wouldn't allow common sense to rob 
 me of, though it tried hard. And now ! — it is 
 like a dream.' 
 
 She gave his arm a slight pressure, by way 
 of proving that she was a substantial reality ; 
 and presently, looking up into his face, she said, 
 'Adrian, if I ask you a question, will you 
 answer me ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I will.' 
 
 ' But truly, I mean — as you would answer 
 if anybody else asked you.' 
 
 ' Certainly — if I can.' 
 
 She paused for a moment, drawing some wild 
 flowers which she had gathered through his 
 button-hole, and then pulling them out again 
 and throwing them away. 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Yidal, smiling down upon her.
 
 214 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Well, then — do you think that love lasts 
 for ever ? ' 
 
 He answered 'Yes.' Perhaps no one, 
 situated as he was, would or could have made 
 any other reply ; but it must be said for him 
 that he believed himself to be speaking the 
 truth. Love of the kind about which she was 
 inquiring is a passion which may, in extreme 
 cases, survive marriage by as much as a couple 
 of years, but which far more frequently begins 
 to fade after a few months of conjugal felicity ; 
 and of this abstract circumstance Vidal was just 
 as well aware as the rest of the world. But 
 then he knew that to every rule there are a few 
 exceptions ; and how could he doubt that their 
 love for each other was of an exceptional kind? 
 Had any two people ever loved so devotedly 
 since the world began ? It did not seem likely. 
 So he said ' Yes ' with a quiet mind, and 
 emphasised his assertion in the customary 
 manner.
 
 DREAMS 215 
 
 But she drew a little away from him. ' You 
 said just now that it was like a dream ; and I 
 am afraid it is a dream — it must be ! Life 
 can't really be so beautiful. And don't you 
 think — don't you think that some day you may 
 wake up ? ' She went on. without giving him 
 time to reply, ' It is so with other people : one 
 can't help seeing it. Men have a sort of affec- 
 tion for their wives — something like friendship, 
 if they happen to get on well together. But I 
 don't want that — I wouldn't have it — 1 would 
 almost as soon that you hated me ! Oh, 
 Adrian, if you ever cared for anyone else as 
 you care for me now, I think I should die ! ' 
 
 There was such a strange look upon her 
 face, and she spoke with so much vehemence, 
 that the young man was startled. ' Why, 
 Clare,' he said, ' what has put such notions into 
 your head ? Care for anyone else as I care for 
 you ! Don't you know that that is utterly im- 
 possible ? '
 
 2i6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' All sorts of impossible things happen/ she 
 answered, more quietly, and with a certain 
 shamefacedness, ^ and all sorts of horrid 
 thoughts come into one's mind. But one ought 
 not to speak them out. Please forget that I 
 said that, Adrian/ 
 
 But he did not forget it. He remembered 
 the speech afterwards when he was alone, and 
 the look that had come over the girl's face as 
 she uttered it, and he said to himself — not 
 without reason, it may be — that he was un- 
 worthy of such love. Those few words were in 
 some sort a revelation to him ; for he was 
 quick at interpreting signs of character, and he 
 perceived what he had hitherto only half sus- 
 pected, that Clare's was one of those deep and 
 strong natures which surrender themselves 
 wholly when they surrender at all, and which 
 will be satisfied with nothing short of complete 
 surrender in return. Well, if it were so, there 
 was no need for disquietude.
 
 DREAMS 217 
 
 Love is not love 
 TSTiicli alters when it alteration finds, 
 
 Or bends vrith the remoyer to remoTe ; 
 
 nor would Clare ever have reason to complain 
 that she did not hold the first place in his 
 thoughts. She was not one of those unreason- 
 able women who will quarrel even with that 
 measure of allegiance which an artist owes to 
 his art.
 
 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 heriot's wedding present. 
 
 The happy summer-time stole on with scarcely 
 a cloud, material or metaphorical, to dim its 
 brightness. Every now and again a heavy 
 shower would sweep in from the westward, 
 converting the steep streets of Polruth into 
 running watercourses for half an hour or so ; 
 but this year the elements seemed to have 
 entered into a conspiracy to make two lovers 
 happy ; and day after day the sky and the sea 
 were blue, and the rocks and islets of the coast 
 slept in a golden haze, while Clare and Adrian 
 wandered about together, repeating the old 
 phrases which never suffer by repetition, while 
 the boys, giving up this couple as hopeless,
 
 . HERIOT'S WEDDING PRESENT 219 
 
 reverted to their ordinary pastimes, and while 
 Mrs. Irvine scoured the county in search of 
 eligible residences. 
 
 If there was a gloomy face in the household, 
 it was that which rose above Heriot's bowed 
 shoulders. He had congratulated his friend, 
 and had said all that was pretty and appro- 
 priate to Miss Irvine ; but he had not managed 
 to conceal from either of them the misgivings 
 which he felt with regard to this marriage, and 
 it was but natural that they should resent his 
 unspoken disapproval. Therefore the news of 
 his approaching departure was not greeted with 
 that general chorus of protest w^hich he was 
 accustomed to hear annually from his hospit- 
 able friends at Cardrew. Mrs. Irvine, how- 
 ever, was loud in her reproaches. 
 
 ' You have never given us less than a 
 month before,' she exclaimed, ' and it is too 
 bad of you to run away like this, just when I 
 am in need of somebody to consult with. I
 
 220 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 know you think me a silly old woman for 
 wanting to keep Clare near us ; but that is no 
 reason why you should deprive me of the 
 benefit of your advice now that the thing is 
 decided upon ; and I am sure no one who has 
 not had to look about for houses can have any 
 idea of how difficult it is to find what you 
 want. As for those two, I can't move them to 
 take the shghtest interest in the matter. They 
 say that anything with four walls and a roof 
 will do, and that they are quite content to 
 leave it to me — which is so absurd ; because it 
 is they, not I, who will have to live m the 
 house. Well, I must do the best I can. I 
 suppose we shall see no more of you now until 
 next summer.' 
 
 ' Oh, you haven't quite seen the last of me 
 yet,' answered Heriot, with a laugh. ' I have 
 been asked to stay with the St. Austells, and I 
 dare say we can contrive one or two meetings
 
 HE RIOT'S WEDDING PRESENT 221 
 
 before I leave Cornwall. So that the blow 
 will be softened.' 
 
 He did not add that the spare room at 
 Cardrew might very possibly be coveted by 
 one who had a better right than he to occupy 
 it ; although this was one of the reasons which 
 had led him to hasten his leave-taking. 
 
 Adrian made no comment upon the subject, 
 one way or the other ; but that evening, when 
 he had bidden the family good-night and was 
 setting off for his lodgings, Heriot surprised 
 him a little by saying, ' I think I'll just walk 
 down with you, Adrian, and smoke a pipe 
 before I go to bed.' 
 
 ' All right,' answered the young man. 
 ' Come along, and I'll give you a whisky-and- 
 soda, or whatever it is that your doctor allows 
 you to drink.' But he was not very much 
 delighted ; for he thought, ' Now I'm in for 
 another lecture ; ' and it seemed to him that it
 
 222 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 was rather too late in the day to dehver or 
 listen to lectures. 
 
 However, Heriot did not seem to have very 
 much to say, after all. He walked almost in 
 silence from the house to the village, and after- 
 wards, at Yidal's lodgings, sat smoking for half 
 an hour with a preoccupied air, and replying in 
 monosyllables to the remarks addressed to him. 
 It was only when he had risen to go that he 
 came to the point. 
 
 ' You are to be married some time in 
 the autumn, I suppose,' he said, somewhat 
 brusquely. 
 
 'I believe so. Nothing is absolutely settled 
 yet.' 
 
 ' Yes ; — well, I wanted to say that I'm 
 afraid I shan't be able to come to the wedding.' 
 
 ' Why, my dear fellow,' exclaimed Adrian, 
 ' I was counting upon you to do best man.' 
 
 ' Ah, I had the vanity to imagine that 
 perhaps you might honour me so far ; and that
 
 HERIOT'S WEDDING PRESENT 223 
 
 is why I thought I had better beg you at once 
 to ask somebody else. I am sure you won't 
 accuse me of unfriendliness ; but, you see, my 
 health is so uncertain — and in the autumn I 
 generally have to move south — and — and 
 altogether, I am afraid I shall have to content 
 myself with being with you in the spirit when 
 the day comes.' 
 
 He spoke with some hesitation and embar- 
 rassment ; and Vidal, perceiving that these 
 excuses were not genuine, was the least bit in 
 the world offended. But he answered crood- 
 humouredly enough, ' Just as you think best, 
 old chap. We shall all miss you, of course ; 
 but if you're in Egypt, you can't be in Corn- 
 wall, that's certain.' 
 
 ' N"o ; just so — that's it, you see,' said 
 Heriot ; ' and if I am not quite as far off as 
 Egypt, I may very likely be on my way there ; 
 so that it would be best not to reckon upon 
 me. And, Adrian,' he added, producing an
 
 224 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 envelope from his pocket, and still speaking in 
 tlie same flurried, uncertain manner, 'I thought 
 I would take this opportunity of giving you 
 my wedding present. I have ventured to put 
 it in the coarse and practical form of a cheque ; 
 because one wishes one's friends to buy what 
 they will like, and how am I to know what 
 would please a young lady ? ' 
 
 Adrian took the envelope, and mumbled 
 his thanks after the usual fashion. But it 
 appeared that Heriot had still something to 
 add, ^ It's — it's for a rather larger amount 
 than one generally gives as a wedding present,' 
 he said ; ' but I hope you won't mind that, and 
 that you'll take it as it is meant. You know, 
 I have more money than I can spend, and it 
 occurred to me that furnishing and setting up 
 
 house and all that Besides which, I have 
 
 my doubts about this Cornish estabhshment. I 
 think it will have to be London, most likely.
 
 HERIOT'S WEDDING PRESENT 225 
 
 after all ; and then, perhaps, a few extra tables 
 and chairs, you know, might come in useful.' 
 
 ' I couldn't accept more than a certain 
 amount, Heriot,' said Vidal, somewhat alarmed 
 by this incoherent explanation. 
 
 ' Well, it isn't more than a certain amount,' 
 returned Heriot sharply. ' Don't be silly ; I'm 
 not offering you a fortune. Xow good-night ; 
 and may you never need a friend to help you 
 out of trouble to the end of your days. But if 
 you ever should, you know where to apply.' 
 
 So the two men shook hands, and Heriot 
 made for the door. But on the threshold he 
 halted again uTCsolutely. 'Look here, Adrian,' 
 he said ; ' I don't want to preach, but the old 
 Adam is strong in me, and I must say one 
 word. You are going to marry a girl who has 
 had no experience of life whatsoever. She 
 knows nothing, Hterally nothing about it, and 
 when she goes to London she will hear and see 
 many things which she won't like. Well, you 
 
 YOL. I. Q
 
 226 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 are prepared for that, no doubt ; still it may 
 make you impatient at the time. Don't be 
 impatient with her, and don't let her lose faith 
 in you. Because, although she can easily be 
 made happy, she can also be easily made un- 
 happy, and I don't think she can very easily 
 forgive.' 
 
 Vidal nodded and smiled. The advice 
 might be a httle superfluous, but doubtless it 
 was well meant. After Heriot had gone, he 
 opened the envelope and found that it con- 
 tained a cheque for 1,000/.
 
 227 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL. 
 
 By far the greatest man in the neighbourhood 
 of Polruth was Sydney George, third Earl of 
 St. Austell and eighth Viscount Blaise ; but his 
 local greatness was due rather to the fact that 
 he owned nearly the whole of the surrounding 
 district than to any personal quaUties that he 
 might possess ; for of these not much was 
 known to Cornish folk. He spent but a very 
 short time out of each year at Blaise Castle, 
 having estates in other parts of England which 
 he preferred ; and diu-ing that short time his 
 tall, bony figure, his hook nose, and purple 
 whiskers were seldom exhibited to an admiring 
 tenantry. In London, on the other hand, as
 
 228 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 well as at Newmarket, Melton, Cowes, and 
 other resorts of fashionable society, he was, if 
 not great, at all events famous. All his life 
 long he had gone in lavishly for every form of 
 amusement which costs money ; and although 
 he had been, upon the whole, successful on the 
 turf, the racing stud which he still kept up in 
 his old age must have swallowed a very much 
 larger annual amount than it returned. He 
 had, however, always been wealthy, and was 
 moreover declared by those who had reason to 
 know to be an exceedingly sharp man of busi- 
 ness. It is probable that the sums which he 
 lost at play during the early years of the 
 century were not so enormous as was currently 
 reported. 
 
 But, indeed, many reports were current re- 
 specting this old nobleman which, if looked 
 into, might have been found to be untrue or 
 exaggerated. Fame, when once she takes to 
 blowing the trumpet of any individual with
 
 LADV ST. AUSTELL 229 
 
 regard to some special quality, is apt to blow 
 so loudly that false notes must needs come out 
 every now and then ; and just as all witty say- 
 ings used to be attributed to Sydney Smith, 
 and most solemn platitudes to poor Benjamin 
 Franklin, so Lord St. Austell, having established 
 a reputation for phenomenal wickedness, had 
 fathered upon him many crimes of which he 
 was, perhaps, innocent. The balance might 
 have satisfied him ; for in truth there was 
 hardly a vice in the exercise of which he had 
 not shown himself an adept ; but if any un- 
 founded accusations were brought against him, 
 it was not he who would think of refuting or 
 complaining of them. He was well aware that 
 he passed for being the greatest sinner in 
 England, and though he never boasted of his 
 bygone iniquities, he took an intense silent 
 delight in the name that he had earned for 
 himself. A sceptic as to religion, and a cynic 
 as to morality, he had devoted the whole of his
 
 230 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 long life to the one object of gratifying bis 
 persona] desires, and had never stepped aside 
 to serve a friend or to avenge himself upon a 
 foe — neither of these ends being, in his opinion, 
 calculated to repay the trouble of achievement. 
 Why such a man should have been popular it 
 would be rather hard to say ; for he possessed 
 no single virtue, except that of physical cou- 
 rage ; but that he did enjoy popularity of a 
 certain kind is undeniable. He had been three 
 times married. His first two wives, it was said, 
 had succumbed to his fascinations, as a great 
 many other people's wives had done, had 
 married him out of pure affection, and had 
 died broken-hearted on discovering that other 
 people's wives interested him considerably more 
 than his own. 
 
 The third and last Lady St. Austell had not 
 accepted the coronet offered to her from any 
 such motives, and was in no danger of incurring 
 so melancholy a fate. It might have seemed
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 231 
 
 like a piece of poetical justice that this old 
 reprobate should have found himself at the end 
 of his career hnked to a partner many years 
 younger than himself, whose flirtations were 
 common talk ; but Lord St. Austell, as it hap- 
 pened, was quite cognizant of his wife's pecu- 
 harities, and didn't care a bit. She amused 
 him ; which was more than either of her pre- 
 decessors had been able to do. He took a 
 malicious kind of pleasure in watching her, in 
 seeing how far she v/ould venture to go, and in 
 condohug with her when she failed — as she 
 occasionally did — to capture the particular 
 admirer whom she coveted. Sometimes he 
 succeeded in making her angry by leading her 
 to the glass and pointing out that she was 
 growing stout and losing her complexion — 
 which was great fun. Sometimes, too, he 
 frightened her ; and that was better fun still. 
 He knew very well that she would never over- 
 step the thin boimdary-line which separates
 
 232 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 mere indiscretion from downright folly. Per- 
 haps he would not have minded very much if 
 she had ; but he liked to let her feel, from time 
 to time, that he had the whip hand of her, and 
 would crack the whip for the satisfaction oi 
 seeing her scared. 
 
 After all, he knew very little about her ; 
 for they were seldom together. He thought 
 her a silly sort of woman, and so, no doubt, 
 she was ; but he had not troubled himself to 
 examine closely into her character, nor had he 
 any suspicion that she was in reality a philo- 
 sopher of his own school. Heriot, who had 
 been all his life acquainted with this thoroughly 
 egotistical, yet unamiable lady, found her an 
 even more amusing study than her husband 
 did. If he had no very profound esteem for 
 her, he could not help liking her ; and she, on 
 her side, honoured him with something as 
 nearly approaching friendship as her nature 
 could compass. Heriot was not a man with
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 233 
 
 whom it was possible to flirt ; so she had long 
 fallen into the habit of treating him as one 
 outside the pale of the emotions and excite- 
 ments for which she lived, and was wont to 
 confide to him, with delightful candom^ all 
 the details of these. Her emotions were 
 genuine ; she had learnt the trick of stimulat- 
 ing them. Fortunately, they were also shallow, 
 and did not ' delve the parallels on beauty's 
 brow,' which she dreaded more than anything 
 else in the world. i\.s the sense of humour 
 was developed in her to a greater extent than 
 is common among women, Heriot and she 
 sometimes had an unexpected laugh together, 
 which refreshed them both. 
 
 Almost the first thing that she said to him, 
 after he arrived at Blaise Castle from Cardrew, 
 was, ' You find me in the depth of despair. I 
 don't know when in my life before I have felt 
 so miserably low-spirited.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Heriot. ' Has anything
 
 234 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 happened to Charley, or Jimmy, or whatever 
 his name was ? ' 
 
 'Johnny. Johnny Spencer. You know 
 what a charming young fellow he was. Always 
 so cheery and pleasant and ' 
 
 ' And so devoted to you. But why do you 
 speak of him in the past tense? Is he 
 dead?' 
 
 Lady St. Austell sighed. ' No ; but I am 
 sorry to say that I have had to marry him to 
 an heiress. It has left me very much depressed, 
 though the match was an excellent one as far 
 as that goes, and you can easily understand 
 how it became necessary. He was beginning 
 to be so disagreeable that I felt things couldn't 
 go on much longer as they had been doing.' 
 
 The emphasised pronoun referred to Lord 
 St. Austell, whom her ladyship was often 
 pleased to represent as a jealous tyrant. 
 
 ' You will have to get another,' said Heriot. 
 
 ' Ah, no ! I shall never be as fond of
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 235 
 
 anyoue again as I was of him. Why do you 
 laugh? I suppose you think yourself much 
 wiser than I am because you have never chosen 
 to advance a step beyond friendship with any 
 woman. Well, you are wrong. You miss the 
 greatest blessing of existence.' 
 
 ' Very hkely. But as Nature has treated 
 me rather unkindly in the matter of features, 
 and as my health won't allow me to be a 
 marrying man, perhaps I may be consulting 
 my peace better by letting love alone.' 
 
 ' What on earth has marriage to say to the 
 question ? Or features either, for that matter ? 
 You might spend some very happy hours, if 
 you chose ; but you don't choose, because you 
 are afraid of losing your peace. Well, I grant 
 you that your peace would have to go for a 
 time ; but supposing it did ? Is peace such 
 a treasure ? If peace were all one wanted, 
 one might as well be an old cow at once. I 
 don't recommend you to fall in love with a
 
 236 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 girl, for girls naturally think about establishing 
 themselves, and you are well off; but surely 
 among your acquaintances you might find some 
 married woman whom you could care for.' 
 
 ' Wouldn't that be rather immoral ? ' asked 
 Heriot. 
 
 ' Certainly not. You are not going to call 
 me immoral, I hope ? Xow, you know how 
 perfectly innocent all my little affairs of that 
 kind have been. Disinterested too — as I have 
 proved by my behaviour in Johnny Spencer's 
 case. I have never tried to keep myself from 
 indulging in a Platonic love for anyone towards 
 whom I have felt dra^vn, and I never will. Do 
 you think that does them or me any harm? 
 Harm ! — why, it does us the greatest possible 
 good. It brings out all the noblest qualities 
 of our characters ; it enables us to forget the 
 dreary boredom of everyday life ; and, for my 
 own part, even if the individual doesn't happen 
 to care for me, I am always glad to have the
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 237 
 
 power of feeling such a pure and delightful 
 emotion.' 
 
 ' In other words, it is the emotion that you 
 love, and not the individual.' 
 
 ' Well, I love the individual for giving me 
 the emotion. Believe me, there is nothing else 
 in life that is worth the trouble. I have tried 
 most things, so I can speak with some autho- 
 rity. Do you know, I remind myself very 
 much of a character in a novel that I was 
 reading the other day, called " Society," or 
 some such name. Have you seen it ? ' 
 
 ' If you mean " Satiety," answered Heriot, 
 ' it is by a friend of mine, a man named Vidal 
 who is in Cornwall at this moment.' 
 
 ' You don't say so ! ' cried Lady St. Austell, 
 with quickened interest. ' Is he young ? Is 
 he good-looking? Is he the sort of person 
 whom one could ask to one's house ? ' 
 
 ' He is young, he is good-looking, and he 
 is the sort of person who would be calculated
 
 238 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 to reflect credit upon liis hostess,' replied 
 Heriot gravely. ' Also he is engaged to be 
 married. His future wife is the only daughter 
 of my friends the Irvines.' 
 
 ' I should like to meet him all the same,' 
 said Lady St. Austell pensively. 'So he is 
 going to marry that pretty Miss Irvine, is he ? 
 He might amuse me Do you think he would 
 amuse me ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say he would,' answered Heriot ; 
 ' only, as he is engaged ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I know ; don't be absurd. We 
 will have the Irvines to dinner one day next 
 week. I don't much like the old lady, because 
 she always bothers one so for subscriptions, but 
 Ave really ought to show^ them some civility. 
 Now I come to think of it, I believe we haven't 
 asked them to dinner for two years.' 
 
 The result of this conversation was that Mi's. 
 Irvine received a friendly note the next morn- 
 ing, in which Lady St. Austell congratulated
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 239 
 
 her upon her daughter's approaching marriage, 
 and begged her, as well as Mr. and Miss Irvine, 
 to 'join a few friends at dinner ' on the follow- 
 ing Thursday. ' And we shall be so glad,' 
 continued the writer, ' if you can persuade Mr. 
 Vidal to come with you. Please tell him that 
 he needs no introduction to me, for I already 
 know him through his very clever book, which 
 I have read with the greatest interest.' 
 
 ' Now this is most fortunate ! ' exclaimed 
 Mrs. Irvine, after reading the above sentences 
 aloud and laying down the note upon the 
 breakfast- table. ' I was just wondering how I 
 could manage to get hold of Lord St. Austell, 
 and put in a word for those poor fishermen. 
 I am a httle bit afraid of him, I confess ; but it 
 would never do to let such an opportunity slip. 
 Of course we must accept. You will come, 
 won't you ? ' she added, turning to Yidal, who 
 was now staying in the house. 
 
 ' Oh, certainly,' he answered. He had not
 
 240 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 been insensible to Lady St. Austell's flattering 
 reference to himself, and was rather surprised 
 when Clare confided to him afterwards that she 
 had hoped he would decline. 
 
 ' Why ? Would you prefer to be without 
 my company ? ' he asked, smiling. 
 
 ' You need not ask that question,' she re- 
 phed ; ' but don't you think it was rather 
 impertinent of her to invite you in that way ? 
 It sounded as if — as if ' 
 
 'As if what? * 
 
 ' Well, as if she only wanted you to come 
 because you had written a book that amused 
 her.' 
 
 Vidal laughed. 'But, do you know,' he 
 said, ' I don't find that an insulting reason. Of 
 course, you and I are aware that my acquaint- 
 ance is an inestimable boon in itself ; but we 
 can't expect Lady St. Austell to have discovered 
 that, since she has never been fortunate enough 
 to see me. If reading my book has given her
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 241 
 
 a desire to see me, why shouldn't she say 
 so?' 
 
 ' I am sure you won't hke her,' said Clare. 
 ' She is a horrid old thing, who makes herself 
 up with powder and paint, and has very dis- 
 agreeable, artificial sort of manners. Even Mr. 
 Heriot, who never will say a word against any 
 of his friends, admits that she is bad style.' 
 
 However, Yidal was unable to admit the 
 justice of this criticism when he found himself 
 face to face with the subject of it. The lady 
 who received him at Blaise Castle was certainly 
 not old, nor — so far as could be seen in the dim 
 hght — was she painted ; and if her manner was 
 artificial, it was far from beinor disagreeable. 
 She had a vivacious httle face, with bright eyes, 
 a retrousse nose, and very red hps. It was not 
 exactly pretty, but it was decidedly attractive. 
 Her figure had probably been prettier some 
 years back : it was now somewhat too full for 
 beauty. 
 
 VOL. I. R.
 
 :242 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 These details lie noted as he followed the 
 Irvines into a spacious room, full of people. 
 Lady St. Austell did not detain him, having 
 other guests to welcome, and being more alive 
 than her husband was to the advisability of 
 keeping upon good terms with the squirearchy. 
 The ' few friends ' of whom she had spoken in 
 her note of invitation in reality comprised every 
 decent person who dwelt within a twelve-mile 
 radius of the Castle, and it was easy to foresee 
 that the impending dinner would be as long and 
 dull as such overgrown entertainments always 
 are. Yidal, who at this particular period of 
 his life had eyes for only one person, was not 
 interested in the assemblage, and found the 
 conversation of the lady whom he subsequently 
 took into the dining-room extremely tedious. 
 The same causes which prevented him from 
 doing justice to the company interfered with his 
 appreciation of the dinner, which was never- 
 theless an excellent one ; for Lord St. Austell
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 243 
 
 was not the man to put up with indifferent 
 cooking. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what to eat,' Vidal heard him 
 saying confidentially to the stout dowager who 
 sat on his right hand. ' Put yourself into my 
 hands, and you needn't be afraid of taking 
 anything that will disagree with you. I sup- 
 pose you are like me, and suffer from a fit of 
 gout every now and then, don't you? You 
 look as if you did.' 
 
 Lord St. Austell had a peculiarly rude 
 way of saying rude things when he was in a 
 bad humour, and country dinner parties always 
 put him in a bad humour. His neighbours 
 were very much afraid of him, and indeed he 
 looked a sufficiently terrible old man, sitting 
 there, at the end of that long vista of fruit and 
 flowers and priceless china, like a living 
 memento mori in the midst of so much luxury. 
 His pallid visage, his unnaturally black whiskers, 
 the eye-glass which gleamed when the fight fell 
 
 k2
 
 244 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 upon it, and the long teeth which gleamed 
 always, preached as pithy a sermon and dif- 
 fused as effective a chill around him as any 
 mummy at an Egyptian feast could have done. 
 When he spoke (he had a high-pitched, ringing 
 voice), everybody stopped talking and quaked ; 
 because it was impossible to tell what dreadful 
 thing he might not be going to say ; and if 
 there v/as an episode in your past life which 
 you desired to bury in obhvion, you might be 
 pretty sure that Lord St. Austell had heard 
 about it, and would not neglect a chance of 
 referring to it. 
 
 At the other extremity of the table things 
 were more cheerful. Of Lady St. Austell no 
 one had need to be frightened ; and although 
 she may have been quite as much bored as her 
 husband, she did not avenge her wrongs, as he 
 usually did, upon the first person who came to 
 hand, Eound about her, therefore, there was 
 a brisk cackle of voices and laughter which
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 245 
 
 spread to a certain distance. Clare, sitting 
 about midway between the gaiety and the 
 gloom, had for neighboiu^ a young man who 
 informed her that he was staying in the house 
 and hardly knew a soul at the table. He 
 appeared anxious to correct his ignorance — ■ 
 having, perhaps, some difficulty in finding 
 topics likely to interest a country-bred maiden 
 — and she enlightened him as to the names and 
 residences of his fellow-guests, which pretty well 
 exhausted all that there was to be said about 
 them. But when he inquired who the fair- 
 haired man opposite was, she answered, colour- 
 ing shghtly, and not without a certain intona- 
 tion of pride, ' That is Mr. Yidal.' 
 
 ' You speak as if he were the show man of 
 the district,' remarked her questioner. 
 
 ' He does not live here,' replied Clare. ' He 
 is the Mr. Vidal, you know.' Indeed, she sup- 
 posed that every person of ordinary education 
 must have heard of this celebrated author.
 
 246 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 * Oh yes,' said her neighbour vaguely, 
 ' very stupid of me ; but somehow that doesn't 
 seem to convey much idea to my mind. Who 
 is The Vidal when he's at home ? ' 
 
 'He is the Mr. Vidal who writes. But 
 perhaps you don't read books,' said Clare, with 
 a touch of disdain. 
 
 ' Well, not very much. I read the papers ; 
 and. as I am an idle man, that is almost all I 
 can find time for. What is Mr. Vidal's Hne ? 
 Science, history, travels, or poetry ? Poetry, I 
 should think, by the look of him.' 
 
 ' He writes novels,' answered Clare. ' That is, 
 he has written one ; but he has been a contribu- 
 tor to the best magazines for some time, I believe.' 
 
 ' Oh, novels ? Then I may make ac- 
 quaintance with his productions some day. I 
 like a good novel — only it must be a good 
 one. Why te- Melville's, for instance : Whyte- 
 Melville knew what he was writing about. 
 Some of these authors — upon my word, 1
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 247 
 
 can't think where they find the cheek to 
 pubhsh their rubbish! Why, only the other 
 day, as I was coming down here, I bought a 
 novel to read in the train, and in the very first 
 chapter I came to something about pheasant- 
 shooting in September. Well, I thought 
 perhaps that was only a slip of the pen. I said 
 to myself, " Don't let's be too hard on the 
 poor chap," and I read on. But, if you'll 
 believe me, I hadn't got through a dozen pages 
 before I came to a yachting scene where the 
 hero is represented as beating up a narrow 
 channel against the wind, and singing out to 
 his skipper to gybe ! Well, now, you know, I 
 do call that just a little bit too bad. I don't 
 pretend to criticise grammar or style ; but it 
 does seem to me that a man ought to have 
 some elementary knowledge of his subjects 
 before he sits down to write a book.' 
 
 ' I don't think Mr. Vidal makes such mis- 
 takes,' said Clare.
 
 248 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Doesn't he ? You seem to take great 
 interest in him. Well, I dare say he's a clever 
 fellow, and he's good-looking enough, anyhow. 
 I suppose that is why our revered hostess has 
 been making eyes at him ever since we sat 
 down.' 
 
 The poor man meant no harm. He could 
 not tell that his fair neighbour was engaged to 
 Mr. Vidal, and he was a good deal taken aback 
 when she turned upon him with sudden fierce- 
 ness, exclaiming, ' Making eyes at him ! I can't 
 beUeve that even she would be so — so disgusting 
 as that ! If you are a friend of hers, you ought 
 not to say such things about her.' 
 
 Clare's own eyes were flashing, and her 
 cheeks had become pink. Her interlocutor, 
 who began to have an inkling of the state of 
 aflairs, could not help answering maliciously, 
 ' As I am a friend of hers I know her little 
 ways, and I can assure you that she is a most 
 dangerous person. When she makes eyes at a
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 249 
 
 man, it is generally all up with him. But you 
 need not feel alarmed about Mr. Vidal. He 
 doesn't know what an impression he has pro- 
 duced ; he hasn't even glanced at her. Per- 
 haps he has found some one more agreeable to 
 look at.' 
 
 Clare perceived that she had made herself 
 ridiculous, and was proportionately ashamed ; 
 but, although she immediately changed the 
 subject, she did not succeed in banishing it 
 from her mind. During the rest of the dinner 
 she was preoccupied and uneasy, and after- 
 wards in the drawing-room, when she saw 
 Lady St. Austell bearing down upon Adrian, 
 she felt that painful constriction of the heart 
 which only a swift pang of jealousy can pro- 
 duce. 
 
 The law of oiu* being, which throws us 
 poor mortals upon the world with certain 
 hereditary tendencies, infirmities, defects, and 
 so on, and leaves us to make the best we can of
 
 250 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 the imbroglio, had not spared Clare Irvine any 
 more than it has spared the humble writer and 
 the respected reader of these words. Like the 
 rest of us, she was imperfect, and it must be 
 confessed that the sweetness of her disposition 
 was somewhat marred by what, after all, is not 
 so much a vice as a misfortune. Jealousy is no 
 more to be fought against than the toothache 
 — the utmost that can be accomplished in the 
 case of either malady is to conceal it ; but 
 what adds bitterness to the former is that those 
 who suffer from it are as often as not aware 
 that their sufferings are wholly irrational. 
 Nothing, for example, could have been more 
 absurd upon the face of it than that Clare 
 should object to see a man who adored her 
 conversing for a matter of ten minutes with a 
 stout lady whose charms were on the wane, 
 and whom he might very probably not en- 
 counter a second time in the course of his life. 
 Yet she did object ; and, indeed, it was perhaps
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 251 
 
 just as well that she could not overhear the 
 dialogue which was taking place at the end of 
 that long and dimly-hghted room. 
 
 'Mr. Vidai; Lady St. Austell began, 'I 
 have a crow to pluck with you. I want to 
 know what you mean by putting me into a 
 book.' 
 
 ' I don't think I need defend myself against 
 that accusation, Lady St. Austell,' answered 
 Vidal ; though he knew what she meant, and 
 was secretly pleased that the fidelity of his 
 sketch should have been recognised. ' How 
 could I have written about you when I have 
 never had the happiness of meeting you until 
 this evening ? ' 
 
 ' You must have heard of me, then — from 
 Mr. Heriot, perhaps. Oh, I assure you I know 
 myself when I see my face in the glass ; I have 
 no illusions. The lady in your novel is a por- 
 trait of me, and a very unflattering portrait too. 
 Well, I will forgive you if you will make
 
 252 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 haste and write another book as amusing. 
 But now, tell me, why do you attack women of 
 the world with such acrimony ? What have 
 we done to you that you should be so severe 
 upon us ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say your shoulders are broad enough 
 to bear my attacks,' answered Vidal, smiling, 
 and then bethought himself that he might have 
 hit upon a happier phrase ; for, in truth. Lady 
 St. Austell's shoulders had lost the gracefulness 
 of proportion that they had once possessed. 
 
 But she went on, without heeding him, 
 ' You quarrel with our ways of killing time ; 
 but you don't seem to consider that time must 
 be killed somehow, and that we haven't so 
 many means of doing that as you have. T 
 suppose you are hke all men : you believe that 
 the world was created for you, and that we 
 were only put into it as an afterthought.' 
 
 ' The Book of Genesis lends some support 
 to that theory,' observed Vidal. ' At the same
 
 LADV ST. AUSTELL 253 
 
 time, I should be an ardent upholder of women's 
 rights if I could only find out exactly what 
 they were. What I do venture to contend for 
 is that both men and women might find some- 
 thing better to do with time than to kill it.' 
 
 ' All, yes ; that has been put into rhyme, 
 hasn't it ? Teach the orphan boy to read, and 
 teach the orphan girl to sew,' &c. &c. Praise- 
 worthy, but not exciting; and excitement is 
 what we require. You take care to have 
 plenty of it for yourselves, I notice ; only you 
 can't admit that your wives and daughters may 
 have the same cravings that you have. What 
 a fortunate thing it is that most of you have a 
 blind faith in your own wives and daughters, 
 and that, unless they are very stupid indeed, 
 they can always manage to amuse themselves 
 without letting you into their secrets I How is 
 it that you don't understand that human nature 
 is human nature all the world over ? ' 
 
 ' All women are not alike,' remarked Vidal.
 
 254 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' They are more alike than you think for, 
 perhaps. Just now, I know, there is one 
 woman whom you consider immeasiu-ably 
 superior to the rest of us, and I don't wonder 
 at that. She is very pretty, and probably very 
 charming too, when you know her. Tell me 
 about her ; I like listening to lovers' rhapso- 
 dies.' 
 
 It may be taken for granted that Lady St. 
 Austell did not really enjoy a form of conver- 
 sation which has never yet been found enjoy- 
 able by man or woman ; but she spoke with a 
 certain appearance of sincerity, and drew rather 
 nearer to her companion, smiling up into his 
 face and throwing back her head, with a slight 
 inclination to one side, in a way that she had. 
 Her closed fan just touched his coat-sleeve ; 
 the diamonds in her hair and about her neck 
 dazzled the eyes of the young man, who, if the 
 truth must be told, was a little bit flattered at 
 having been singled out for so conspicuous a
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 255 
 
 share of his hostess's attentions. He did not 
 rhapsodise, as he had been requested to do, but 
 he tried to be agreeable and to say some clever 
 things ; and possibly he succeeded. At any 
 rate, the colloquy lasted for some time ; and 
 Clare, watching it all, felt her soul disquieted 
 within her. 
 
 Out of the four people whom the Irvines' 
 carriage bore away into the night, shortly after- 
 wards, one was silent and depressed, one was 
 sleepy, and two were higlily elated. 
 
 ' I have got ten pounds out of him,' Mrs. 
 Irvine was saying triumphantly. 'It isn't 
 handsome, considering what his income is ; but 
 with his name to head my hst I shall do toler- 
 ably weU, I hope, and really he was not nearly 
 as uncivil as I expected him to be. Lady St, 
 Austell was most friendly. She said such nice 
 things about you both, and she is coming over 
 to luncheon some day soon. You and she have 
 arranged it all, have jou not, Adrian ? '
 
 256 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 ' She told me she was anxious to explore 
 Polruth/ answered Vidal. ' It seems that she 
 has seen very little of her husband's property 
 in these parts, and she wanted to know whether 
 I would show her all the objects of interest ; 
 but I said I thought Clare was more capable of 
 undertaking that task than T.' 
 
 ' If Lady St. Austell discovers any objects 
 of interest in Polruth, it is certain that I shall 
 not be one of them,' observed Clare ; but 
 Adrian did not notice the dryness of her intona- 
 tion. 
 
 'The chief object of interest to Lady St. 
 Austell, in Polruth or elsewhere, will always 
 be Lady St. Austell,' he rejoined, laughing; 
 ' but I confess that she is an object of interest 
 to me too. I found her very entertaining, and 
 there is an absence of humbug about her which 
 rises almost to the level of a virtue.' 
 
 ' I have always thought that there wa^ a 
 great deal that was nice in her,' said good-
 
 LADY ST. AUSTELL 257 
 
 natured Mrs. Irvine ; ' and although she has 
 not been particularly neighbourly until now, I 
 shall be very glad if she likes to begin.' 
 
 But in this expression of kindly feeling Mrs. 
 Irvine was not seconded by her daughter. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 258 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 ANGLING. 
 
 If Clare was foolisli enough to liave been 
 jealous of Lady St. Austell, on account of what 
 she considered the flirtation that had taken 
 place between that frivolous lady and Adrian, 
 she was at least not so unjust as to impute any 
 blame to the latter. Following the custom of 
 her sex, she blamed the woman, and felt no 
 anger against her lover for having caused her 
 to pass some unhappy hours. But indeed she 
 blamed nobody very long ; nor was it possible 
 that she should entertain any serious misgivings 
 as to Adrian's constancy. He, for his part, 
 was far too deeply in love to waste many 
 thoughts upon Lady St. Austell. He made no
 
 ANGLING 259 
 
 reference to lier on the following day, and, 
 before twenty-four hours were over, she and 
 her projected visit to Polruth had passed en- 
 tirely out of his mind. 
 
 It so chanced, however, that Lady St. 
 Austell had not forgotten Mr. Yidal. She had 
 taken a fancy to the young author, partly 
 because she had made up her mind beforehand 
 to like him, partly because he was handsome, 
 and partly also because he was neither in love 
 with her nor likely to become so. She had 
 filled her house with a set of people who bored 
 her, and she complained bitterly to Heriot that 
 she didn't know how to get through the day. 
 
 ' Very seldom before have I felt so dejected,' 
 she said. ' I have an idea that it might do me 
 some good to drive over to Cardrew and see 
 your friend Mr. Yidal. You shall come with 
 me, and keep the Irvine family engaged in con- 
 versation while I take him out for a walk. 
 Would you mind ? ' 
 
 s2
 
 26o ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Not in the least,' answered Heriot : • but 
 it seems just possible that Miss Irvine might 
 mind, and I am not sure that Yidal himself 
 would enjoy the walk as much as he ought to 
 do. Hadn't you better wait until he is married ? 
 You will find him much more diverting com- 
 pany then.' 
 
 ' But I want to be diverted now,' objected 
 Lady St. Austell. ' His wedding won't take 
 place before next Wednesday, I presume, and 
 on that day, I am thankful to say, we go to 
 Scotland. If you really think the girl would 
 be so absurd as to dislike my taking herjiance 
 out for a walk, I won't do it. Or she can 
 accompany us if she chooses. My own belief 
 is that they will all be rather annoyed if I don'c 
 pay them a visit ; because I promised that I 
 would, and you know how huffy people who 
 live in remote places always are when one 
 breaks an engagement.'
 
 ANGLING 261 
 
 ' I would undertake to make your peace 
 with them,' said Heriot drily. 
 
 'Well, the fact is that I have just sent a 
 note to Mrs. Irvine, asking her if she will have 
 me to luncheon to-morrow. I told her I 
 should bring you with me ; so I am afraid we 
 can't get out of it now.' 
 
 Heriot smiled. He had noticed Clare 
 Irvine's face on the night of the dinner party, 
 and had been sorry for what he had seen there. 
 It was easy enough to forecast the future of 
 such a woman ; easy enough to guess what in- 
 evitable troubles must be in store for her ; and 
 impossible — at least to this old and faithful 
 friend— not to deplore them in advance. But 
 Lady St. Austell was scarcely a person to be 
 dreaded. Yidal was not in her world, and her 
 memory of the absent was not very retentive. 
 Moreover, she was certain to have picked up 
 some unattached admirer before she could 
 meet him again.
 
 262 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 It was, therefore, with tolerable equanimity, 
 though without much hope of spending a 
 pleasant day, that Heriot heard, on the morrow, 
 of the receipt of a favourable reply from Mrs. 
 Irvine, and seated himself beside his hostess in 
 the mail phaeton which was to convey them 
 to Cardrew. Lady St. Austell, who drove as 
 fast as she talked — which is saying a good deal 
 — accomplished the distance in excellent time, 
 and took the w^hole burden of the conversation 
 upon herself. When the slate roofs and the 
 pale blue smoke-wreaths of Polruth came in 
 sight, she declared that she already felt better. 
 
 ' It is the atmosphere of Blaise that weighs 
 me down so,' said she. ' Everybody is dull 
 there — even you, if you will excuse my saying 
 so. I observe that you are much more cheerful 
 when you are with the Irvines than you are 
 with us. They shall cheer you up this after- 
 noon ; and if only Mr. Yidal can manage to do
 
 ANGLING 263 
 
 as miicli for me, I shall be eternally grateful to 
 him.' 
 
 But perhaps Mr. Yiclal was not anxious to 
 possess that claim upon Lady St. Austell's 
 gratitude ; for hardly had Mrs. Irvine finished 
 welcoming her guests when she made an an- 
 nouncement regarding him which amused one 
 of them a good deal more than it did the other. 
 
 'Two of our party have deserted us,' the 
 unsuspecting lady said. ' Clare and Adrian — 
 Mr. Yidal, you know. Well, of course that is 
 very natural, and one is glad that they should 
 enjoy themselves together — especially as the 
 boys tease them so whenever they are within 
 reach. To-day they have taken their lunch 
 with them, and I believe they are going to fish 
 the trout-stream up fi^om the sea ; though 
 whether they will catch anything is another 
 matter. But I dare say they won't mind, and 
 Adrian said he was sure they wouldn't be 
 missed.'
 
 264 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Heriot chuckled in his beard ; but if he 
 expected Lady St. Austell to exhibit any signs 
 of mortification, he was disappointed. Lady 
 St. Austell had her countenance well under 
 command, and was also a woman of considerable 
 readiness. 
 
 'Mr. Vidal is too modest,' she answered. 
 ' I shall miss both him and your daughter very 
 much ; but I don't mean to go aw^ay without 
 seeing them. I have never caught a trout in 
 my life, and I adore new sensations. Mr. 
 Irvine,' she added, bringing an engaging smile 
 to bear upon Jack, ' will you be good-natured 
 enough to take charge of an ignorant woman 
 this afternoon, and show her how to throw a 
 fly ? Then we might all walk up the stream 
 together. ' 
 
 ' With the greatest of pleasure, Lady St. 
 Austell,' answered Jack ; ' only you can't throw 
 a fly into that stream, because it is so over- 
 grown. However, if you will condescend to a
 
 ANGLING 26^ 
 
 grub, I'll do my best to show you some sport. 
 It's rather rough walking, though ; I don't 
 know whether you mind that.' 
 
 Lady St. Austell declared, quite truthfully, 
 that she minded nothing that gave her amuse- 
 ment ; and added, with a shade less of truth, 
 that she felt sure of having that, since Mr. 
 Irvine had so kindly consented to be troubled 
 with her. 
 
 This speech put Jack, who was not much 
 accustomed to be sought after by fascinating 
 countesses, upon excellent terms with himself, 
 and caused him inwardly to resolve that Lady 
 St. AusteU should have the use of his own rod, 
 instead of Bob's, which, in view of probable 
 contingencies, he had originally destined for 
 her. During luncheon he talked a good deal, 
 and flattered himself that he displayed all the 
 graceful ease of a man of the world, while the 
 lady for whose sake this brilliancy of dialogue
 
 266 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 was being displayed listened with every appear- 
 ance of interest. 
 
 Whatever may have been the impression 
 that Jack produced upon her, it is certain that 
 she produced a most favourable one, not only 
 upon him, but upon all the other members of 
 his family. No one could have been more 
 agreeable ; and she found an opportunity of 
 saying something pleasant to everybody — 
 having, indeed, long ago discovered that it is 
 scarcely more difficult, and a great deal wiser, 
 to make friends than enemies. 
 
 No sooner was she out of the dining-room 
 than she expressed her intention of proceeding 
 to the stream forthwith. ' No, my dear Mrs. 
 Irvine, you must not think of coming with me 
 in this heat. I couldn't hear of such a thing — 
 it would make me quite miserable ! No ; you 
 shall sit here quietly and talk to Mr. Heriot, 
 who, I know, has heaps of things to say to you ; 
 and Mr. Jack — may I call you Mr. Jack .? It
 
 ANGLING 267 
 
 saves confusion, doesn't it ?— Mr. Jack will look 
 after me.' 
 
 So presently this resolute lady, who was 
 appropriately equipped for fishing in a pair of 
 the thinnest French boots and a charming cos- 
 tume of pale pink cambric, trimmed with yards 
 of lace, was seen tripping across the slopes of 
 the park with her chosen protector by her side ; 
 and Heriot, watching them from the window, 
 burst into an abrupt laugh, which he declined 
 to explain when called upon to do so. 
 
 In the meantime Adrian and Clare were 
 having a perfectly happy time of it together. 
 They were not catching many fish, it is true ; 
 but then it had not been for the sake of catch- 
 ing fish that they had absented themselves 
 When Lady St. Austell's note had arrived, 
 Clare had, indeed, exclaimed, 'Oh, what a 
 bore ! Xow we shall not be able to try the 
 trout-stream ; ' but she had been rather sur- 
 prised by the promptitude with which Yidal
 
 268 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 had returned, ' Wliy not ? It would be a capi- 
 tal excuse for getting out of her way, and we 
 aren't bound to receive your mother's guests.' 
 She had not supposed that he would have been 
 anxious to get out of Lady St. Austell's way ; 
 but in truth he would, at that time, have been 
 anxious to get out of the way of anybody who 
 had threatened to deprive him for a few hours 
 of the only society for which he cared. So 
 these two went off together in the best of spirits, 
 and, starting from the sea, progressed slowly 
 upwards, conscientiously fishing every pool, 
 and only allowing themselves a respite of per- 
 haps an hour and a half in which to consume 
 the sandwiches that they had carried out with 
 them. 
 
 The stream — which dropped in a succession 
 of tiny cascades and miniature rapids from the 
 heights of Cardrew to the shore — was of toler- 
 ably respectable volume when swelled by the 
 winter rains, but after so dry a summer as this
 
 ANGLING 269 
 
 had been, was reduced to the dimensions of a 
 mere rivulet. To an enthusiastic angler, there- 
 fore, it would have seemed to leave much to 
 be desired ; but, on the other hand, a pair of 
 lovers might very well be content to clamber 
 up its mossy banks, to rest awhile under the 
 thick shade of the trees which bordered it, or 
 to seat themselves upon one of the overhanging 
 boulders beneath which the little trout congre- 
 gated. Adrian and Clare hooked three of 
 these, and threw them back again to grow 
 larger ; but as the afternoon went on, they got 
 no more bites, and agreed at last that it was 
 absurd to expect any fish to look at a grub in 
 such bright weather. 
 
 This point being decided, they felt entitled 
 to take their rods to pieces and enjoy themselves 
 after a less laborious fashion. Sitting under 
 the overarching boughs, through which stray 
 shafts of sunlight flickered, sometimes inter- 
 changing remarks which it would be cruel to
 
 270 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 transfer to the hard black and white of a printed 
 page, and sometimes Hstening in contented 
 silence to the babble of the brook and to all 
 those subdued stirrings and rustlings which make 
 the charm of the woods in summer-time, they 
 were wholly obhvious of the existence of Lady 
 St. Austell, who was nevertheless drawing nearer 
 to them every moment, and brushing her way 
 through the undergrowth with a recklessness 
 that might have brought a sardonic smile to the 
 lips of her dressmaker. 
 
 Her ladyship very soon had enough of Jack, 
 and paid no heed to his entreaties that she 
 would remain among the higher pools, and spare 
 herself so much needless exertion. ' If we go 
 on much farther we shall come upon those two 
 idiots,' he said discontentedly, ' and then it will 
 be all up with oiu- chance. They are sure to 
 have gone splashing about and scaring the fish, 
 and besides, there's no use in trying places that 
 have been tried all day.'
 
 ANGLING 271 
 
 But Lady St. Austell, though good-humoured, 
 was inexorable. ' Sometimes the least likeliest 
 place is more likelier than the most likeliest,' 
 said she, quoting from an old number of Punch. 
 ' We will go on till we find the two idiots, as 
 you politely call them, and then we can begin 
 to retrace our steps.' 
 
 And find them she did. She found them, 
 indeed, so suddenly that they started a couple 
 of yards apart with great haste, and looked ex- 
 ceedingly red and foolish. The little lady in the 
 pink dress, who stood smihng down upon them, 
 with her rod in her hand, was not at all put 
 out of countenance. 
 
 ' See how indiscreet I am ! ' she cried. 
 ' Your brother has been imploring me not to 
 thrust my company upon you ; but I delight 
 in doing the things that I ought not to do, and 
 I really think you both deserve some punish- 
 ment for running away from me after promising 
 to show me all the beauties of Polruth. Mr.
 
 272 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Vidal, I am glad to see that you look ashamed 
 of yourself. Never mind ! I know you are a 
 privileged person just now. I only wanted to 
 demonstrate to you that you can't escape me 
 by concealing yourself in a thicket, and having 
 done that I will take myself off.' 
 
 But, of course. Lady St. Austell could not 
 be allowed to depart in this way. The de- 
 linquents made such apologies as seemed 
 necessary, and one of them was more eager to 
 clear himself of the charge of having run away 
 than perhaps he need have been. It is always 
 disagreeable to be caught with your arm round 
 a lady's waist. However beautiful and refined 
 that lady may happen to be, and however 
 legitimate • may be the attitude, there is an 
 apparent vulgarity about it which is both dis- 
 tressing and humiliating. Yidal thought he 
 had better try to efface the recollection of what 
 she had seen from the intruder's mind ; and it 
 was with this pardonable object that he set to
 
 ANGLING 273 
 
 work to divert Lady St. Austell, and presently 
 offered to show her a spot whence she might 
 drop her line with some prospect of success. 
 It was not at all his intention to walk away 
 with her, and leave Clare and Jack behind ; 
 yet that was the result of his unfortunate pro- 
 position, which was at once accepted. 
 
 'I told Mrs. Irvine that I was going to 
 catch trout,' Lady St. Austell remarked, ' and I 
 suppose it is my duty to catch one if I can. I 
 haven't the most distant idea of how to set 
 about it ; but I will try to be a docile pupil.' 
 
 It took Yidal some five minutes to conduct 
 his pupil to her post and to bait her hook, and 
 during these five minutes the two remaining 
 members of the party thought fit to disappear. 
 When Yidal noticed their absence, he began to 
 wish that he had been a httle less precipitate in 
 offering his services ; but he could not very 
 well shout after them, and any regrets that may 
 have been visible upon his face were at once 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 banished thence by a remark of his companion's, 
 who had been watching him with much amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 ' I hope I haven't got you into a scrape,' 
 she said. ' I really didn't mean to take you 
 away from Miss Irvine. Will she be very 
 angry with you ? ' 
 
 ' Of course not,' replied Yidal, who did not 
 much like the question. ' Why should she 
 be?' 
 
 ' Oh, there is no reason why she should be ; 
 but girls are apt to be exacting. Perhaps you 
 think other people are rather exacting too, 
 without so good an excuse. That is only too 
 true, I am afraid ; still, I don't see how I could 
 have sat and talked to Mrs. Irvine all the after- 
 noon. Please overlook the offence for this once, 
 and it shall not be repeated.' 
 
 Vidal said what nobody could have helped 
 saying in answer to such a speech, and said it 
 in all sincerity. For choice, he would rather
 
 ANGLING 275 
 
 not have been interrupted ; but since the 
 interruption had taken place, he did not mind it 
 much. It was a flattering thought that Lady 
 St. Austell should have torn an exquisite gown 
 to shreds for the pleasm^e of seeing him ; and 
 one may find a woman very pleasant company 
 without having the faintest disposition to flirt 
 with her. Xor did she say a word to him that 
 might not have been spoken in the presence of 
 a dozen witnesses. Every now and again she 
 threw him a languishing look ; but that was 
 only her way — she would have done the same 
 thing, from mere force of habit, if she had been 
 talking to her own grandfather — and all the 
 time she kept dropping her line into the water 
 with a splash that ought to have been enough 
 to terrify any fish. 
 
 It has, however, been observed before now 
 by many a patient angler, as well as by toilers 
 in other fields, that people who know nothing 
 at all of what they are about often meet witli a 
 
 T 2
 
 276 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 success beyond their deserts ; and so it proved 
 in Lady St. Austell's case. All of a sudden, 
 some reckless denizen of the pool took it into 
 his head to swallow the bait held out to him, 
 and the consequence was what might have been 
 anticipated. 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' she exclaimed, ' I have 
 caught a whale ! What am I to do ? ' 
 
 The top joint of her rod was something less 
 than a semi-circle ; the fish had dashed beneath 
 a boulder, and a catastrophe appeared immi- 
 nent. ' Give him line I — give him line ! ' 
 shouted Yidal excitedly ; ' you've got a big 
 one.' 
 
 But, alas ! she had not got him at all. 
 Disregarding her instructions, she jerked her 
 rod upwards, and immediately one-half of her 
 hne was entangled in the branches overhead, 
 while the remainder was secured as a perma- 
 nent possession by the trout. 
 
 It is impossible for anyone to see a fellow-
 
 ANGLING 277 
 
 creature beLave in that way without some 
 passing feeUng of indignation. ' Why didn't 
 you listen to me ? ' exclaimed Yidal reproach- 
 fully. ' Surely you couldn't have thought 
 you were going to land a fish by main 
 force?' 
 
 ' I thought he was going to pull me into 
 the water,' answered Lady St. Austell, who was 
 not at all disconcerted by her failure ; ' and I 
 didn't wish to be put to such discomfort by a 
 wretched little trout. How absurd it is of 
 people to make fishing-tackle of such flimsy 
 material ! With a good stout pole and some 
 stronof twine I could have drao^^ed him out 
 easily. I'm sorry about the line. I suppose 
 that poor youth will be very much annoyed 
 and say it was all my fault, won't he ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's nothing,' answered Vidal ; ' I 
 can put on another line for you in a minute or 
 two. The sad thing is that you should have 
 let a splendid opportunity slip.'
 
 278 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Lady St. Austell laughed, not feeling the 
 situation to be a sad one. She sat down, 
 clasping her hands round her knees, and 
 watched the young rnan while he produced 
 line and gut from his pocket and began tying 
 them with deft fingers. How handsome and 
 well-built he was ! And how admirably his 
 loose shooting-coat, knickerbockers, and deer- 
 stalking cap became him! Lady St. Austell 
 worshipped youth — she would have given all 
 her jewels to be ten or fifteen years younger 
 herself— and as she contemplated Clare Irvine's 
 affianced husband, it occurred to her that it 
 would be very pleasant to be Clare Irvine. 
 To be young again ; to be in love — really in 
 love again ; to be loved in return, and to 
 believe that such things can endure ! Oh 
 sweet dreams of bygone days ! Oh happy 
 ignorance and innocence ! Oh buttercups and 
 daisies ! Lady St. Austell was so affected by 
 the pathos of her thoughts that she sighed
 
 ANGLING 279 
 
 aloud, and Vidal, glancing up, asked lier if she 
 was tired. 
 
 ' I am, rather,' she replied ; ' I don't think 
 I'll fish any more. Come and sit down here, 
 and we will talk for a few minutes instead. 
 Do you know that you ought to be a perfectly 
 happy man ? ' 
 
 ' I believe I am,' said Vidal, with a sHght 
 laugh. 
 
 'I suppose so. I wish, for your sake, that 
 you could go on being as happy all your hfe ; 
 only that sort of happiness can't last, unfortu- 
 nately. I never can remember poetry ; but I 
 dare say you know the whole of that dismal 
 little ditty about the impossibility of keeping 
 love from dying in the knot there's no un- 
 tying.' 
 
 ' I know the poem, but I am not bound 
 to believe in the sentiment,' answered Vidal, 
 smihng. 
 
 ' Ah, you must believe in it. You couldn't
 
 28o ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 write as you do unless you had found out that 
 much. Still, I grant you that some married 
 couples are happy after a fashion. They must 
 not see too much of one another ; that is the 
 chief thing. What is this nonsense Mr. Heriot 
 tells me about your taking a house down in the 
 wilds of Cornwall? Be advised by me, and don't 
 attempt impossibilities. London is the only 
 place for you to live in, and you know that as 
 well as I do.' 
 
 ' It isn't exactly a matter of choice. We 
 have to consider ways and means ' 
 
 ' Eubbish ! ' interrupted Lady St. Austell. 
 ' You can live as cheaply in London as any- 
 where, if you don't insist upon settling in a 
 fashionable quarter. Take a pretty little house 
 in Brompton or Bayswater, and when we come 
 up in the spring, you must bring your wife to 
 see me, and I will introduce her to some nice 
 people, and try to make things cheery for 
 her.'
 
 ANGLING 281 
 
 ' You are very kind,' said Yidal. 
 
 ' I really ara — to people whom I like,' 
 returned Lady St. Austell naively ; ' I have 
 been often told so. What distresses me is that 
 I am not always allowed to see as much of my 
 friends as I could wish.' 
 
 This statement led her to speak of her own 
 conjugal relations, which she did with the 
 utmost frankness and good humour, to her 
 hearer's great amusement. Yidal was told all 
 about Johnny Spencer, and also about many of 
 Johnny's predecessors ; his informant did not 
 attempt to disguise either her own fickleness or 
 that of her admirers, and interspersed her 
 narrative with such quaint reflections that he 
 shook from head to foot with suppressed 
 laughter, until she noticed his merriment and 
 begged him not to suppress it any longer. ' It 
 is so much better to laugh than to cry, and so 
 much better to do either than to be bored,' she 
 said.
 
 282 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Whatever Lady St. Austell miglit be, she 
 was certainly not a bore. Yiclal was so much 
 tickled by her observations that he did not 
 notice how late it was getting ; and it was she 
 who concluded the interview by exclaiming 
 suddenly that she had not a minute to lose. 
 ' I have enjoyed my day very much,' she was 
 so kind as to say ; ' and I am convinced that 
 you and I should become great friends if we 
 saw more of each other. Now, mind, you are 
 to be sure to call upon me when we come to 
 London ; otherwise I may have forgotten about 
 you by that time. You won't think me rude 
 for saying so ; but one meets such a number of 
 people, and I have no memory. So do look 
 me up — ^you needn't bring your wife the first 
 time, if she chooses to stand upon ceremony — 
 and you will be most welcome.' 
 
 She repeated this amicable invitation by- 
 and-by in the drawing-room, where Clare was 
 sitting with the rest of the family. ' I have
 
 ANGLING 285 
 
 been telling Mr. Yidal tliat I hope to see you 
 both in London next spring ; and if you will 
 treat me hke an old friend and neighbour, and 
 call upon me without waiting for a formal first 
 visit, I shall think it so kind of you.' 
 
 ' Thank you very much,' answered Clare, 
 rather coldly ; ' but we are not at all likely to 
 be in London next spring.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, you are,' returned Lady St. 
 Austell ; ' you are not at all likely to be any- 
 where else. You can't hve in the country all 
 the year round. Mr. Yidal owes it to his 
 readers to study society, and we owe it to 
 oiu-selves to make society pleasant for him.' 
 
 She nodded amiably, and went round the 
 room, making her adieux : she was in too great 
 a hurry to notice Clare's grave face and chilling 
 manner. But after she and Heriot had driven 
 away, somebody else was made unpleasantly 
 aware of Miss Irvine's displeasure. 
 
 ' Thanks, but I don't think I much care to
 
 284 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 hear about it,' Clare said, when Yidal, in the 
 innocence of his heart, proposed to relate to 
 her all that had passed between him and their 
 departed guest. She was standing just outside 
 one of the open French windows, and she 
 looked away as she spoke. 
 
 ' She really was great fun,' Yidal went on, 
 a little doubtfully, being aware that Clare did 
 not like Lady St. Austell, but suspecting no 
 special reason for such dishke. 
 
 ' Yes ? I believe a good many people think 
 so,' remarked Clare, moving away ; and there 
 was that in her tone which made it absolutely 
 necessary to follow her and ask whether 
 anything was the matter. 
 
 ' Nothing whatever,' she rephed, with her 
 head in the air. 
 
 Yidal of course knew what that meant, and 
 it vexed him more than it might have done an 
 older man. That the woman whom you love 
 should resent your disappearing into a wood
 
 AXGLIXG 285 
 
 for the best part of an hour with another 
 woman is neither a very unnatural nor a very 
 offensive thing ; but to Yidal it seemed evidence 
 of a distrust so absurd as to be positively 
 alarming. If this was done in the green tree, 
 what would be done in the dry ? 
 
 ' Clare,' he said gravely, after an interval of 
 silence, during w^hich they had been pacing 
 side by side along the gravel walk, ' you siurely 
 can't mean to quarrel with me because I was 
 obhged to leave you for that little time ? ' 
 
 ' You were not obliged ; you offered to go,' 
 she returned. ' But I certainly do not mean 
 to quarrel. Xobody has ever called me 
 quarrelsome.' 
 
 ' You are angry, at any rate ; and I must 
 say I think that is rather unjust. I didn't 
 intend to go off with Lady St. Austell ; I 
 hadn't the slightest wish to do anything of the 
 sort — quite the contrary. But don't you see 
 that we can't be always together, and that if
 
 286 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 we are to doubt one another whenever we are 
 apart, there won't be much happiness for either 
 of us?' 
 
 Poor Clare hardly knew what answer to 
 make. She felt that, from the common-sense 
 point of view, she was utterly in the wrong ; 
 she could not hope to make Yidal understand 
 the danger of which her woman's instinct 
 warned her ; and yet she thought he might 
 have been a little less peremptory. ' I was 
 not angry with you^ Adrian,* she said at length, 
 quite humbly. 
 
 ' But, my dearest girl, why should you be 
 angry with anybody? You haven't a high 
 opinion of Lady St. Austell — well, perhaps she 
 doesn't deserve to be highly respected, although, 
 so far as 1 can see, there is very little harm in 
 her. But in any case, you may be sure that 
 when she wishes to indulge in a flirtation, it isn't 
 a person of my humble position in society that 
 she selects. All that she did was to patronise
 
 ANGLING 287 
 
 me, and pay me a few compliments about my 
 writing, and ask me to take you to call upon 
 her in London. She meant to be good-natured 
 — indeed, she was good-natured. She would 
 be very much astonished if she knew that you 
 and I had nearly fallen out because of her.' 
 
 Clare bit her lips and looked down, without 
 replying ; and presently Vidal resumed, ' Added 
 to which, she is a fat old creature, wiih whom 
 I hope I should never have had the bad taste 
 to flirt under any circumstances.' 
 
 Possibly that assertion may have been more 
 convincing than the most sensible of arguments. 
 Clare stood still, hesitated a moment, and then, 
 suddenly throwing her arms round Adrian's 
 neck, burst into tears. ' I am sorry,' she sobbed 
 out, with her head on liis shoulder. ' I ought 
 not to have been so silly. It is my horrid 
 jealous temper — and — and — I love you so ! I 
 can't help thinking that she does want to flirt 
 with you ; but what does it matter .^ We
 
 288 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 won't talk about her any more. You will 
 forgive me, won't you, Adrian ? ' 
 
 So this lovers' quarrel ended as all lovers' 
 quarrels ought to end ; and if Vidal had been 
 asked, the next day, whether it had left any 
 disagreeable impression upon his mind, he 
 would have answered, quite conscientiously, 
 that it had not. Nevertheless, the conditions 
 under which we work out our lives do not 
 admit of obUterations. Every incident, how- 
 ever trivial, must needs have its consequences ; 
 it is easy to forgive, and easy also, in a certain 
 sense, to forget ; but perhaps it is hardly pos- 
 sible, with the best will in the world, to forget 
 that one has forgiven.
 
 289 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MR, AND MRS. ADRIAX VIDAL. 
 
 If at any future time it should seem possible 
 to run railway trains between London and 
 Paris without danger to the integrity of the 
 British Empire, many deserving persons will, 
 no doubt, feel that one more scourge has been 
 taken away from existence ; but all improve- 
 ments are apt to bear hard upon individual 
 cases, and it is certain that the removal of the 
 Channel steamers would deal a heavy blow at 
 the prosperity of Eolkestone. Why, in this 
 fastidious age, so much enjoyment should be 
 derived from the contemplation of several hun- 
 dreds of fellow-creatures in a most unbecoming 
 state of physical degradation, there is no need 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 to inquire — human nature being &o full of con- 
 tradictious ; but as to the fact of the enjoyment, 
 there can hardly be two opinions ; and this is 
 naturally intensified by a strong wind from the 
 S.S.W., meeting the tide, and an unusually 
 large boat-load of victims. 
 
 These conditions being satisfactorily ful- 
 filled one afternoon in the late autumn, the 
 visitors to Folkestone had descended from their 
 heights in formidable numbers, and had ranged 
 themselves on either side of that via dolorosa 
 which is but too familiar to most of us. 
 Between the lines of spectators the draggled 
 and forlorn passengers hastened onwards, some 
 with a ghastly pretence of jauntiness ; others 
 darting furious glances to right and left ; others, 
 again, too crushed by the memory of their 
 calamities to care who saw them or what they 
 looked like ; and as the melancholy procession 
 filed past, those who watched it exchanged 
 comments of a derisive nature, and were as
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 291 
 
 happy as so many inhuman Spaniards at a 
 bull-fight. But in any spectacle there are sure 
 to be some component parts which will dis- 
 appoint expectation ; and upon this occasion, 
 as usual, a few persons insulted the public by 
 walking ashore as if nothing was the matter. 
 Conspicuous among these were a lady and a 
 gentleman, of whom no worse thing could be 
 
 said than that they were obviously bride and 
 
 * 
 
 bridegroom. This, to be sure, is a humiliating 
 
 classification to carry about with one, and 
 involves those who cannot conceal their title 
 to it in a certain amount of obloquy ; still, if 
 one must be detected as a bridegroom, it is 
 something not to be a sea-sick bridegroom ; 
 and doubtless many a bride would be thankful 
 to land upon her native shores with cheeks as 
 rosy as those displayed by Mrs. Adrian Vidal. 
 
 The roses deepened slightly in colour as 
 fragments of certain half-audible comments 
 reached their owner's ears, and she quickened 
 
 Tj 2
 
 292 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 lier pace, whispering to her husband, ' Let us 
 get avray from these odious people. Are they 
 London shopkeepers out for a hohday, do you 
 think F ' 
 
 But Yidal, who did not mind being stared 
 at, surveyed the surveyors with a smile, and 
 answered. ' No, my dear : judging from their 
 general aspect, I should say that they belonged, 
 almost without exception, to the upper middle 
 classes ; and they don't mean to be rude. If 
 you were the Princess of Wales, whom they 
 adore, they would treat you with even less 
 respect. It is the penalty of greatness to 
 attract attention ; and when one happens to 
 possess the most beautiful face in the three 
 kingdoms ' 
 
 But at this point Mrs. Yidal caught the 
 speaker's arm and hurried him into the shelter 
 of the Pavilion Hotel, without allowing him to 
 finish his sentence. It was she who, upon the 
 principle of draining the cup of pleasure to its
 
 MR. AXD MRS. ADRIAX VIDAL 293 
 
 dregs, had decided that tliev should proceed 
 no farther than Folkestone that nis^ht. The 
 morrow would restore tliem to the cares and 
 pleasures of ordinary life ; but this last evening 
 of their honeymoon should be spent, as the 
 others had been spent — amid surroundings 
 which suo'orested no thouo-ht of anA'thino- save 
 
 ~0 C I/O 
 
 the present. 
 
 Those who are in a position to speak autho- 
 ritatively are fond of affirming that the lioney- 
 moon is seldom tlie liappiest period of a man"s 
 or woman's life ; but possibly Vidal and Clare 
 may have been exceptional pei'sons, for it is 
 certain that their happiness, since the ceremony 
 which had taken place in Polruth Church a 
 month before, liad known neither cloud nor 
 check. They had visited, somewhat hastily, 
 the cities and watering-places of South-western 
 France ; they had dined at tables-dliote, 
 hemmed in by phalanxes of their compatriots, 
 without addressing a word to any of them.
 
 294 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 and had not weaned of one another's society, 
 nor of ringing the changes upon an oft-told 
 tale. Now, as the last hours of the last day 
 of irresponsibility drew nigh, Clare would have 
 it that they should resemble those of the pre- 
 vious days, and, despite the lateness of the 
 season and the blusterous weather, insisted 
 upon her husband's taking her out for a walk 
 after dinner, while he smoked his evening 
 cigar. 
 
 ' When we are settled in our own home,' 
 she said, a httle ruefully, ' you will have your 
 study, where you will smoke, and where I 
 shall not be admitted. Well, sometimes, 
 perhaps — for ten minutes or so, but not more. 
 You know you can't work when anyone is in 
 the room ; you have often told me so. You 
 have no work to do to-night, though, and no 
 5tudy to work in ; so I may keep you all to 
 myself with a quiet conscience.' 
 
 It chanced, however, that ^Irs. Vidal was
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 295 
 
 to be denied that privilege, after all. The 
 down express had just come in, and as our 
 young friends crossed the hall of the hotel 
 they encountered a stream of newly arrived 
 travellers, amongst whom was a shrunken 
 figure in a fur-hned coat, familiar to both of 
 them. 
 
 ' Mr. Heriot ! ' exclaimed Clare ; ' how glad 
 1 am to see you ! ' — while Vidal called out, 
 ' Heriot himself, as I'm a living sinner ! Why, 
 man, I thought you were to start for the south 
 six weeks ago ! ' 
 
 'I had to put it off: I have been in the 
 doctor's clutches again,' answered Heriot, after 
 he had shaken the hands extended to him ; 
 ' but I shall cross to-morrow, if all's well. I 
 never thought of meeting you here — I didn't 
 know you meant to return so soon.' 
 
 His manner was somewhat confused, and it 
 was evident that this unexpected meeting gave 
 him more surprise than pleasure. After a few
 
 296 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 more words had beaa exchanged he said, ' I 
 mustn't keep you standing here. Perhaps I 
 may have an opportunity of saying good-bye to 
 you in the morning. I'll go and see what sort 
 of a room they have got for me now.' 
 
 ' You will do no such thing,' returned 
 Vidal. ' You will come into our sitting-room, 
 where you will find a fire, and where they will 
 bring you your dinner. And after that, Clare 
 will allow you to smoke a cigar with me.' 
 
 ' Thanks very much,' replied Heriot, ' but 
 I dined before I left London.' He added, in a 
 lower tone, ' My dear boy, do you think I 
 have no manners ? You are very kind, but you 
 can't possibly want me ; and one isn't supposed 
 to recognise people when they are on their 
 wedding trip, is one ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know what the supposition may 
 be,' said Vidal, ' but I know that you are not 
 going to be allowed the chance of cutting our 
 acquaintance. What an unfriendly old beggar
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 297 
 
 you are ! Not want you, indeed ! Why, Clare 
 and 1 shall spend our evenings together for the 
 rest of our lives ; whereas ' 
 
 ' Whereas you may never spend another 
 evening with me,' interrupted Heriot, with a 
 slight laugh. ' Well, there's something in 
 that.' 
 
 He suffered himself to be led into the 
 sitting-room and installed in an arm-chair 
 beside the fire, though he could not be per- 
 suaded to smoke in Mrs. Yidal's presence. 
 The warm atmosphere ; the cheerful aspect of 
 the little room, which, although it was as 
 scantily furnished as sitting-rooms in English 
 hotels always are, had at least so much of 
 snugness as a crimson carpet and window- 
 curtains can bestow ; the loquacity of the 
 young people, who seemed to be, and indeed 
 were, unaffectedly glad to see him — all these 
 things ended by thawing the unwonted chill 
 which had at first been noticeable in his
 
 298 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 demeanour. He did not say much, but sat 
 resting his chin upon his folded hands and 
 looking out over them with those soft, bright 
 eyes of his, while Adrian favoured him with a 
 narrative of their travels, which Clare inter- 
 rupted at every other word. The adventures 
 that had befallen them had not, apparently, 
 been of a verv startlino^ kind, nor were the 
 little jokes and pleasantries with which they 
 attacked one another from time to time 
 calculated to amuse everybody ; but Heriot, 
 whose enjoyment of life was for the most part 
 vicarious, and who was more attached to this 
 couple than to any other two people in the 
 world, was made happy by their innocent 
 happiness, as they knew that he would be, and 
 asked for nothing better than to listen to their 
 talk. He took advantage of a momentary lull 
 to remark, 'And now, I suppose, you are 
 bound for London ? ' 
 
 ' Well, yes,' answered Yidal, with a slight
 
 MR. AXD MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 299 
 
 hesitation. ' The Cornish scheme broke down, 
 somehow or other. Mrs. Irvine couVln't find 
 any house that seemed in the least suitable for 
 us ; and, after all. London has its advantages, 
 you know. Ckire rather thought she would 
 prefer it too ; so I went up to have a look, 
 and I was lucky enough to find a very decent 
 little house in Alexandra Gardens. You don't 
 know where that is, of course, and I can't 
 explain ; but you go on to the far end of 
 Cromwell Eoad, and then wander about until 
 somebody tells you. It's a respectable neigh- 
 bourhood, if not exactly aristocratic ; and I 
 really think that in many ways it will be better 
 for us both to be within hail of the world.' 
 
 He seemed a little anxious to make excuses 
 for himself; but Heriot ignored this tendency. 
 'I never believed much in the Cornish scheme,' 
 he observed ; ' and I had a letter not long ago 
 from Mrs. Irvine, in which she told me of the
 
 30D ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 change in your plans. She mentioned that 
 Mrs. Vidal ' 
 
 'What have I done that you should address 
 rae as Mrs. Yidal P ' demanded that lady. 
 
 'Well, Clare, then — she mentioned that 
 Clare was in favour of it.' 
 
 ' Of course I was in favour of it,' said Clare ; 
 ' one doesn't marry in order to end one's days 
 in the place of one's birth. I held my tongue 
 until mamma had wearied herself out with 
 seeking for houses, because it would have been 
 useless to speak sooner ; but all the time I was 
 concealing a deep design beneath a mask of 
 indifference.' 
 
 She was not, however, a particularly good 
 hand at concealment, and she did not contrive 
 to mislead Heriot, who quite understood the 
 true state of the case. With her husband she 
 liad been more successful. Vidal had never 
 suspected that she was making any sacrifice in 
 yielding to certain unexpressed and only half-
 
 . MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 301 
 
 formed wishes of his ; he thought it very 
 natural that she should desire to see more of 
 the world, and was glad that she had that 
 desire ; ahhough, if she had urged it, he would 
 have consented to take up his residence in 
 Cornwall without pulling wry faces. As a 
 matter of fact, Clare dreaded the proximity of 
 the fashionable world, but was ashamed of her 
 fears. It may have been in some degree 
 because she was ashamed of them that she had 
 expressed herself so strongly as to the attrac- 
 tions of the metropolis ; but she had been 
 actuated chiedy by a generous wish to give 
 Adrian what he wanted, without putting him 
 to the inconvenience of askiug for it. 
 
 Mrs. Irvine had proved unexpectedly tract- 
 able ; but, indeed, that excellent lady was 
 seldom anything else, if taken in the right way 
 and at the right time. Tired of surveying 
 country houses to which some insuperable 
 objection was always discovered, and beginning
 
 302 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 to lament over the many other nnportant duties 
 that she had suffered to fall into arrear, she 
 had received Clare's suggestion that further 
 search should be abandoned with faint protests 
 which gradually melted into acquiescence ; and 
 when Adrian assured her that he should not 
 think of furnishing his house w^ithout making 
 appeal to her valuable advice and experience, 
 she became quite reconciled to the new arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 ' We shall set to work to buy tables and 
 chairs as soon as we get to London,' Clare went 
 on. ' Mamma is coming up to help us, and 
 poor Adrian will have a bad time of it, I am 
 afraid ; but we hope to be settled down before 
 Christmas.' 
 
 ' I must look out for rugs and embroidery 
 at Damascus,' remarked Heriot. ' Did I tell 
 you that I w^as going to Syria this winter ? If 
 I come across anything really good, I will
 
 MR. AND MRS, ADRIAN VIDAL 303 
 
 despatch it to yon, and perhaps you will deign 
 to accept it as a reminder of an absent friend.' 
 
 'Oh no ; you must keep your pretty things 
 for your own house,' said Clare ; and Yidal 
 chimed in, ' I think we have accepted about 
 enough as it is. Our tables and chairs, not to 
 mention our carpets and curtains and other 
 necessaries, will be your wedding present, you 
 know, Heriot.' 
 
 He had had some qualms of conscience 
 about that thousand-pound cheque, and felt an 
 embarrassment in speaking of it which was 
 more than shared by its donor, who took no 
 notice of the allusion, but said hastily, in 
 answer to Clare, ' My house is as full as it can 
 hold already. I gave up attempting to beautify 
 it years ago. Besides, I have nobody to share 
 the delight of contemplating fresh acquisitions 
 with me ; and you cannot imagine, until you 
 have tried it, how uninteresting it is to buy 
 presents for one's self. In the East one simply
 
 304 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 can't lielp making purchases ; it is one of the 
 occupations of tlie day : and if you won't 
 obhge me by taking some of my surplus stock 
 off my hands, the only result will be that it 
 will be pounced upon by somebody else, and 
 used for decorating a drawing-room which I 
 shall probably never enter.' 
 
 Not long after this he wished his enter- 
 tainers good-night ; and as soon as tlie door 
 had closed behind him Clare exclaimed, ' Poor 
 Mr. Heriot ! I am so very sorry for him ! ' 
 
 ' Wliy ? Do you think he looks worse ? ' 
 Adrian asked. 
 
 ' Xo, I don't know that he does ; but his 
 is such a sad, lonely life. Adrian,' she added, 
 drawing a little nearer to her husband, ' I think 
 I am sorry for everybody who is not married.' 
 
 ' One may be sorry for poor old Heriot 
 without allowing one's compassion to take quite 
 so wide a sweep as that,' remarked Vidal. ' If 
 he felt the want of a wife I have no doubt he
 
 ■ MR. AXD MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 305 
 
 could find plenty of people ready and willing 
 to marry him ; for he is very well off.' 
 
 'Oil, a wife who would marry him for the 
 sake of his money — very likely he could. Well, 
 it only shows that money has not much to do 
 with happiness, after all. Poor as we are. I 
 don't want to change places with anybody ; do 
 you ? ' 
 
 Yidal made the reply that was expected of 
 him. He was absolutely contented, and said 
 so a dozen times a day. The present was 
 perfect happiness ; the future seemed full of the 
 brightest promise ; if one of the newly-married 
 pair felt some sinking of the heart when 
 London drew its sooty veil over their heads. 
 Adrian was not that one. He was pleased 
 ^vith everything — pleased to be back among the 
 familiar streets ; pleased with the lodgings 
 which Mrs. Irvine had engaged as a temporary 
 abode for him ; pleased also, it may be (tliough 
 he did not say so), at her announcement that 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3o6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 she herself was domiciled at an hotel in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 ' I might have had rooms in the same 
 house,' she whispered confidentially, ' but I 
 wouldn't take them. Arrangements of that 
 kind are always dangerous, and especially so at 
 a time like this. Only the other day I heard 
 of such a sad case — two young people agreeing 
 to an amicable separation because tliey had 
 fallen out about the draAving-room paper ; and 
 it seems that they might have made friends 
 again if it had not been for the mother-in-law, 
 who most injudiciously took her daughter's part.' 
 
 ' I don't think there is much danger of such 
 a catastrophe in our case,' said Vidal, laughing ; 
 but JMrs. Irvine rejoined gravely that one could 
 never tell, and that it was best to be on the 
 safe side. 
 
 ' I hope,' said she, ' that if you notice any 
 inclination on my part to thrust my views 
 about furniture upon you, you will check it at 
 once.'
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 307 
 
 Vidal promised that he would do so, but 
 did not keep his promise. His views with re- 
 gard to upholstery were of the modern order, 
 and were so absolutely certain to differ from 
 those of his mother-in-law, that he judged it 
 wisest to efface himself from the outset and 
 intrust all details to Clare, whose taste was 
 good, if not educated up to the most recent 
 artistic standard. This self-abnegation did not 
 go wholly unrewarded ; for the furnishing of 
 the house in Alexandra Gardens was eventually 
 accomplished at a cost infinitely smaller than 
 its master had ventured to anticipate. More- 
 over, Mr. Irvine, who had been brought up to 
 London in consideration of his special know- 
 ledge, proved worthy of the confidence reposed 
 in him, and picked up some bargains in 
 Wardoiu- Street and elsewhere which were 
 greatly admired in after days by persons quali- 
 fied to give an opinion about such matters. 
 
 In the meantime, Clare was growing accus- 
 
 X 2
 
 3o8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 tomed to the smoky atmospliere of a large city, 
 and was spending her time after a fashion whidi 
 very few women have ever yet failed to find 
 agreeable. The greater part of each day was 
 passed at the npholsterer's ; and in the evenings 
 her husband generally took her to the theatre, 
 which was delightful. She would gladly have 
 prolonged this pleasant interim, during which 
 she had few visitors and no household cares, 
 had she not been moved with pity for poor 
 Adrian, whose literary labours had to be carried 
 on in a dark little dining-room on the ground- 
 floor, where he was exposed to perpetual in- 
 terruption, and who bore this discomfort with a 
 cheerfulness which she could not sufficiently 
 admire. 
 
 At length, the hst of necessary purchases 
 being exhausted, and there being nothing 
 further to be done but to await the good plea- 
 sure of dilatory tradesmen, Mr. and Mrs. Irvine 
 returned home ; and then a duty which had
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 309 
 
 been too long delayed had to be performed. 
 Mrs. Vidal the elder had not received the news 
 of her son's approaching marriage in a congra- 
 tulatory spiiit, nor had she thought fit to be 
 present at his wedding. Her health, she had 
 averred, precluded her from undertaking so 
 long a journey, and, although she had been 
 guilty of no overt incivility to the Irvine family, 
 it was pretty clearly understood by them that 
 she was not eager to make their acquaintance. 
 To xldrian she had written a formal little note, 
 advising him of the despatch of four salt-cellars 
 to his address, as a wedding gift, and regretting 
 that her straitened circumstances made it im- 
 possible for her to be as hberal as she would 
 have desired to be upon these occasions. 
 Poverty, she added, was generally considered a 
 disagreeable thing. Apparently he did not 
 think so. She hoped he would never see reason 
 to change his opinion. 
 
 Since the receipt of this sympathetic missive,
 
 SiQ ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 Adrian had only heard from his mother once, 
 when she had requested him to bring his bride 
 to Brighton on a three days' visit as soon as he 
 could spare time to do so. She would not think 
 of askincf him to remain lonujer than that in her 
 dull house, she said, being well aware how few 
 attractions she was able to offer. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to comply 
 with so modest and reasonable a request : but 
 Yidal put off doing so as long as he could, and 
 took the train for Brighton at last with more 
 trepidation than he would have cared to own to. 
 He knew that ^Irs. Yidal would be prejudiced 
 against her daughter-in-law; he knew that 
 when she was prejudiced against a person she 
 was often spiteful to that person, and some- 
 times extremely rude ; and he shrewdly suspec- 
 ted that Clare would not stand much rudeness. 
 He himself, having a horror of disputes and 
 recriminations, had always managed to get on 
 tolerablv well with his mother by the simple
 
 expedient of allowing her to say whatever she 
 pleased ; but his sister, whose temper was 
 quicker, had not been equally fortunate, and 
 it had happened to him more than once to be 
 an agonised spectator of scenes which he had 
 no desire to see repeated in his wife's case. 
 Therefore, between London and Brighton, he 
 endeavoured by various hints to prepare Clare 
 for possible contingencies. 
 
 ' My mother is rather odd in some ways ; it 
 isn't everybody who takes to her — but, after all, 
 she is my mother, you know. Sometimes she says 
 things that people don't like ; but if you don't 
 notice them she generally stops ; and anything 
 is better than having a row, don't you think so? 
 For three days one can put up with a good deal. 
 And she doesn't really mean to be disagreeable. 
 
 From these and other similar phrases, Clare 
 gathered that Mrs. Vidal did mean to be dis- 
 asfreeable and would be disas^reeable ; but the 
 prospect did not dismay her. For Adrian's
 
 312 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 sake she would have submitted to many worse 
 things than the scolding of a shrewish old 
 woman, such as she imagined Mrs. Vidal to be, 
 and she determined to accept any and every 
 insult that mig;ht be offered to her without 
 retahating. 
 
 When she saw the tall dark woman who 
 had preserved a certain youthfulness of figure, 
 and whose voice had something of the ring of 
 Adrian's, though her features and colouring were 
 so unlike his, she was agreeably disappointed. 
 Mrs. Vidal, if not very affectionate, was far 
 from being insulting. Adrian had told the 
 truth, while supposing that he was doing quite 
 the contrary, when he had said that she did not 
 mean to be disagreeable. After her peculiar 
 fashion she was fond of her son, and looked 
 forward to his visits more than she would have 
 acknowledged, or than anyone who knew her 
 would have imagined. She did her best to 
 make this visit pleasant to her ouesis, whom
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 313 
 
 she treated more like strangers than near rela- 
 tives ; she put her brougham at their disposal, 
 excusing herself from leaving the house on the 
 plea of ill-health, though there was nothing in 
 the world the matter with her ; and during 
 their stay she gave two dinner parties, to which 
 she invited the elite of her acquaintance. At 
 these festivities Clare attracted much notice and 
 admiration, and was so foitunate as to earn 
 the good opinion of her mother-in-law. 
 
 ' I think your marriage was an imprudent 
 one,' the latter took occasion to remark to 
 Adrian ; ' but, setting prudence aside, you are 
 to be congratulated. Your wife is decidedly 
 distinguished.' 
 
 ' Thanks, mother : I was siure you would 
 think so,' said Adrian, who had not been at all 
 sure of any such thing, and was greatly pleased 
 by this unexpected compliment. ' And she is 
 as beautiful as she is distinguished ; you will 
 allow that ? '
 
 314 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' She is prettj. certainly ; but her good 
 looks chiefly concern you. It is more import- 
 ant that she should be a lady. And she is a 
 lady.' 
 
 ' Well, yes ; I think she may claim to be a 
 lady,' answered Adrian, laughing a little. ' If 
 she had not been a lady I should hardly have 
 married her.' 
 
 ' No ? ' said Mrs. Vidal, with a slight eleva- 
 tion of her eyebrows. ' I did not know that you 
 considered that essential.' 
 
 It was not in the poor woman's nature to be 
 gracious. The world had gone iU with her — 
 or she fancied that it had gone ill — and possibly 
 she may not have desired that the world should 
 go too well with her neighbours. She was not 
 conscious of wishing them any harm ; she was 
 not conscious of caring much about them, one 
 way or the other ; but a sort of misguided 
 instinct, which she was unable to resist, led her 
 to hit upon the speeches that were most likely to
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VIDAL 315 
 
 cause tliem annoyance. Thus she profited by an 
 opportunity which ofiered, the same day, to say 
 to Clare, ' I hope you are a good manager. 
 Adrian will not be of much assistance to you 
 in money matters, I am afraid.' 
 
 ' I dare say we shall contrive to get on,' 
 Clare replied. 
 
 ' That is exactly what he would say. He 
 always thinks that he will get on somehow ; 
 but unfortunately the fact remains that there 
 are only twenty shillings in a pound. You 
 must have noticed how sanguine and impulsive 
 Adrian is. He gives himself what he wants at 
 the moment, and doesn't trouble about con- 
 sequences. Look at your engagement and 
 marriage, for example — an affair of six months! 
 As I was telhng him this morning, he has been 
 fortunate, in my opinion ; but it does seem to 
 have been rather sudden.' 
 
 ' I suppose it does,' said Clare, determined 
 not to be ann oved.
 
 3i6 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 ' Yes ; and of course it is no disparagement 
 to you to say that lie ran a considerable risk 
 by being in such a hurry. But that is just his 
 way. Ever since he left school he has been in 
 love with somebody or other.' 
 
 ' He has never married before, though,' 
 remarked Clare, smiling, and endeavouring not 
 to show how distasteful this assertion as to her 
 husband's past Hfe was to her. 
 
 ' No ; very true — and perhaps marriage 
 may steady him. I am sure I hope it will.' 
 
 ' I don't think he has ever been unsteady,' 
 Clare said. 
 
 ' Oh, not in the way of being what people 
 call " wild." Still, one can't help remembering 
 that you are not his first flame ; and that 
 
 makes one fancy that, perhaps However, I 
 
 have no doubt he will make a very good hus- 
 band, as husbands go, if he is properly 
 managed. I would not be too strict with 
 him, if I were you. What men of his stamp
 
 MR. AND MRS. ADRIAN VI DAL 317 
 
 like is to have all pecuniary bothers taken olf 
 their hands, to be allowed plenty of hberty, 
 and to have a good dinner provided for them 
 every day. I don't say that this is justifiable, 
 or quite fair upon their wives ; but we must 
 take the world as we find it, and it is the more 
 to be wished that one of you should be able to 
 face facts, because it is certain that the other 
 never ^vill.' 
 
 Such a system of philosophy was hardly 
 likely to find favour in the eyes of any bride. 
 Clare told herself that her mother-in-law's 
 words were prompted solely by ill- nature, and 
 merited nothing but contempt ; yet she often 
 recalled them afterwards — as, indeed, we all 
 recall the speeches that hurt us most — and 
 even at the time she was uncomfortably con- 
 scious that their cynicism had an admixture of 
 truth in it. It is unquestionably true that most- 
 men hke their dinner to be well cooked, and 
 it is perhaps pardonable in some men — in
 
 3i8 ADRIAN VIDAL 
 
 geniuses especially — to sliirk tlie worries 
 attendant upon domestic expenditure. That 
 much Clare was willing to concede ; but what 
 was meant by plenty of liberty ? She knew 
 very well that there was a certain kind of 
 liberty which slie could never be capable of 
 allowing to her husband. She did not, how- 
 ever, give utterance to her thoughts, but 
 merely said with a shght intonation of displea- 
 sure, ' I am sorry you think so badly of Adrian.' 
 Mrs. Vidal stared. ' I don't think badly of 
 him,' she answered.; 'he is not bad — only a 
 little llighty. I see him as he is, that is all. 
 Perhaps I can judge of my children more dis- 
 passionately than most mothers, because I have 
 no personal influence over them. Their father 
 chose to make them independent of me in his 
 will, and they have always been allowed to 
 follow their own devices — or, rather, have 
 insisted upon following them. My daughter 
 Georgina, as I dare say you know, is by way
 
 of being a strong-minded woman, and travels 
 about the world all by herself.' 
 
 ' She is in the South Sea Islands now, is 
 she not ? ' asked Clare, glad to change the 
 subject. 
 
 ' She was when I last heard from her. I 
 beheve she means to write a book on her return, 
 if she ever returns ; but it would not surprise me 
 in the least to hear that she had married a native 
 chief. She has had several chances, which she 
 has thought proper to despise, of marrying well 
 in this country ; but, judging by her appear- 
 ance when she came back from her last journey 
 into the interior of Zanzibar, nobody is likely 
 to ask her again. A more deplorable object I 
 never beheld. Mere skin and bone ! — and such 
 a complexion that I really thought at first she 
 must have been staining her face with walnut- 
 juice in order to pass herself off as a Hottentot. 
 Speaking from a rational point of view, 
 Georgina ought to have married and Adrian
 
 320 ADRIAN VI DAL 
 
 ought to have remained single ; but just the 
 reverse has happened, you see.' 
 
 Upon the whole, Clare was not sorry to 
 turn her back upon Brighton, and could not 
 quite agree with Adrian when he declared that 
 their visit had been a triumphant success. 
 ' Then w^e must beware of repeating it, lest we 
 should go away less triumphant next time,' she 
 said. 
 
 At this he laughed, and answered that it 
 would probably be some months before they 
 received another invitation. ' My mother has 
 done her duty, and so have we. As for pleasure, 
 we don't arrange meetings with that object in 
 our family.' 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 I':?INTED BV 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON
 
 a 
 
 3 0112 052948566